


Ready, Set, Bake!

by popfly



Category: Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Great Canadian Baking Show, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: In which Noah Reid seduces Dan Levy with his cake baking and bread kneading.
Relationships: Dan Levy/Noah Reid
Comments: 158
Kudos: 135





	1. Cake Week

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Neely for the encouragement, TINN for the encouragement and validation and title assistance, Gray for the encouragement and validation and excellent beta work (as usual).
> 
> I'll post one episode a day, and the rating is going to go up eventually.
> 
> Also FYI I have no idea how filming the actual _Great Canadian Baking Show_ works, these are just my assumptions based on watching it many, many, many, many, many times.

When Noah is led outside for his first interview, he runs through what he wants to say in his head. “I’m just happy to be in the tent, baking is an art form I’m constantly learning about and this experience is going to teach me so much,” all the normal stuff that contestants say in the first episode. They gave each baker a list of questions ahead of time, to prepare them, and the first one on the list is, “Why did you apply to the Great Canadian Baking Show?” Noah is a little concerned that without rehearsal what will pop out is, “Because I wanted to see if Dan Levy is as hot in person as he looks on TV.”

Not that that’s the real answer. Noah mainly applied to the show to prove a point. And because his mom has been bugging him about it since the first episode of the first season aired. Every hobby he’s picked up over the years, she’s encouraged him to take more seriously. She’s suggested submitting drawings to an art gallery, buying studio time to record an album, publishing some of his very amateur poetry. He’s brushed her off every time. When, on her birthday, after taking her first bite of the frankly delicious citrus olive oil cake he’d baked for her, she said, “You should apply for that baking show with the cute host,” he actually considered it.

And then he applied. And now he’s here, wearing an apron with his name embroidered on it, staring into the lens of a camera, a producer standing at the operator’s shoulder. Beyond her is the tent, the other bakers and crew milling around on the deck, waiting for their turns to be interviewed. It’s not hard to pick out the brightly patterned shirt Dan is wearing. He’s off to the side with Julia, the other host.

He is actually hotter in person than he looks on TV.

Noah snaps his attention back to the camera as the producer clears her throat. “Okay, we’ll start with talking about why you applied to be on the show, and then we’ll do a couple of other easy questions and then you can get back to the group.”

“Great.” Noah nods, and when he opens his mouth, his practiced lines about baking as an art form flow right out. He doesn’t mention Dan at all, and he strolls back to the tent proud of his willpower and minimal theater training, ready to get baking.

𝆩

The first time call sets Noah’s teeth on edge. He knew that racing a clock would be his least favorite part of doing this show, but he didn’t foresee it bothering him quite this much. It might be the added tension of the other bakers, or the constant presence of the cameras, or the sweat rolling down his back and his temples, but he feels more out of sorts than he had in his kitchen at home, practicing this bake with the timer on his phone counting down.

He swipes the back of his wrist across his forehead and chances a glance around. His cupcakes are in the oven, the stand mixer is working away on the butter for his frosting, and he has a second to take everything in. Annie, the baker across the aisle from him, is filling her cupcake tins amidst a riot of flour, one wave of her hair stuck to her cheek. In front of him, Miles is shaving white chocolate into curls. The judges are loitering at the edges of the tent, making sure to look as imposing as they can. The hosts are making their rounds with the cameras at their backs, ready to catch quick snippets of them tasting things or teasing the contestants. Noah watches Dan dip his pinkie into a bowl that a baker offers up, coming back out with a dab of frosting that he then licks off. As he’s curling his tongue around the tip of his finger, he looks up and catches Noah watching.

Ducking his head, Noah focuses back on his baking. He doesn’t want to screw up his first signature challenge because he was distracted. And he definitely doesn’t want the cameras to catch him ogling the host.

The awareness of Dan’s presence doesn’t wane, even as Noah is carefully adding sugar to his mixing bowl, flipping the switch and then bending down to glance into his oven. He and Julia have each chosen a column of counters and Dan is on Noah’s side, talking to Karen now, just in front of Miles. Noah looks at the items laid out on his work surface, mind whirring along with the paddles of the mixer. He has a half-empty can of tepid Guinness, chopped up chocolate, his bottle of Pike Creek whisky that he brought from home, and a shot bottle of Baileys that he’s about to add to his frosting. There’s a bowl with leftover cupcake batter, but he doesn’t want to offer that. Which means he has nothing for Dan to taste, so instead they’ll just have to chat.

Noah braces himself as Dan moves from Karen to Miles, laughing at something Karen says over her shoulder. Noah can hear Dan greet Miles, and ask him about his progress. Miles offers Dan a thick curl of white chocolate, and Noah glances up quickly to watch Dan shake his head, saying he doesn’t like white chocolate. Miles offers him a leftover unfrosted cupcake instead, which Dan pops whole into his mouth. Noah has to work to drag his eyes away to refocus on his frosting, which could be done by the time Dan makes it to him if he can get his head together.

He’s just adding the last tablespoon of Baileys to his mixing bowl when Dan rounds Miles’ bench and steps up in front of Noah’s.

“Hi, Noah,” he says, leaning one palm on the edge of the counter. Noah smiles, and tries to ignore the camera that is _right there_.

“Hi,” Noah says, glancing down at his frosting and then back up at Dan’s face.

“I am seeing a lot of alcohol here, are we just enjoying a late morning drink or is all this for your cupcakes?”

Dan’s teasing tone makes the corners of Noah’s mouth tug up without permission, and he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Both?”

“Good answer.”

“No,” Noah says, turning the mixer off and lifting the paddles, detaching the bowl. “It’s all for the cupcakes. Though you’re welcome to the tepid remains of the Guinness, if you’re interested.”

Dan laughs, and Noah presses his lips together to hide his pleased grin. “I’ll pass, thanks. So what is going in what?”

“Guinness for the cupcakes, whiskey for the chocolate ganache filling, Baileys for the frosting.”

“Oh, so they’re like a, what are those called?”

“The name is horrible! I’m not saying the name on television,” Noah says, and Dan laughs again. “I’m just calling them St. Patrick’s Day Cupcakes.”

“Good call.”

Noah grabs a spoon from his drawer and scoops up a tiny bit of the frosting, offering it to Dan. Dan takes it and slides it into his mouth, eyebrows dipping behind the thick frames of his glasses and then jumping up again.

“Mmm,” he says, licking his lips. Noah almost fumbles the spoon as Dan hands it back. “That’s really tasty.”

“Glad you think so.”

They smile at each other for a beat and then Noah’s timer rings. The camera operator says, “That was great, guys.” And Dan raps his knuckles on Noah’s bench.

“Good luck,” he says, mouth twisting to the side, and then he’s off to the next baker.

Noah slaps his timer off and grabs his oven mitts. He has cupcakes to check, ganache to make, and a challenge to complete.

𝆩

His cupcakes turn out pretty good, though they’re a little rich for Rochelle’s taste. Getting through the first judging is nerve-wracking, and Noah has to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking. Dan participates, taking a forkful of cake and ganache and frosting, and it’s distracting enough to keep Noah from having a complete heart attack during the comments. Although the way Dan’s lips wrap around the tines of his fork threatens to cause one anyway. He carries his tray back to his station with a relieved sigh, matching Annie’s wide-eyed look with one of his own. He stops himself from taking a shot of his whisky, but just barely, and then waits to be pulled out onto the lawn for his post-challenge interview.

The technical challenge is a shitshow, but Noah had a feeling it would be. The tent feels somehow tenser _and_ looser than it had during the signature, a weird mix of worrying that their Battenberg cakes—whatever the hell those are—won’t turn out and silliness that comes from knowing that they absolutely won’t. There’s so much cursing, and laughing, and chatter between the benches, and the hosts are circulating to make sure that no one has completely lost their heads.

“Have you ever seen a Battenberg?” Julia asks as she stops by Noah’s bench, hovering at his shoulder as he squints down at the batter he’s stirring food coloring into.

“Nope,” he replies cheerfully, dropping more green into the bowl. Julia laughs, a pleasant tinkle of sound, and pats him on the shoulder before she moves on.

He comes in fifth, which isn’t terrible at all, and because he’s so middle of the pack he doesn’t have to do an interview. Which means he’s done for the day, and he didn’t even have to re-open his whisky.

His backpack is slightly lighter as he shoulders it, and then he joins the crowd around the tables at the end of the tent, where the leftover baked goods are laid out for the crew and bakers to take home if they’d like. Noah wants to try Annie’s key lime cupcakes, and maybe take one of Rizwan’s as well.

The tray of his cupcakes is almost empty, and he feels a small surge of pride at that. Annie nudges him with an elbow as she reaches out for one of the last ones.

“I think Dan took at least three,” she says, low enough that only Noah can hear. He cuts her a sideways glance that she returns with a sly grin.

“That’s nice,” he replies, and hopes that his voice doesn’t give anything away. She rolls her eyes and backs away with her goodies, tossing him a salute.

“See you tomorrow!”

He grabs a couple of cupcakes and hightails it out of the tent.

𝆩

Their call on day two is thankfully later than it had been on day one, so Noah can enjoy his coffee at home and is feeling very jittery by the time he gets to check-in. Annie is talking to a PA with a clipboard, sunglasses on and hair pulled up in deference to the heat, which is already sweltering with the sun not even at its highest in the sky.

“Morning,” Noah says as he approaches. The day before he hadn’t really talked to anyone until after interviews, but now he feels a little more comfortable with them. Especially the few bakers that surround him in the tent.

Annie grunts at him, nursing a travel mug of what he assumes is coffee. Rizwan gives him a jolly wave, and Miles draws Noah into his conversation with Karen and Punam. They’re rehashing their bakes from the day before, and Noah contributes a few thoughtful noises as they’re corralled into a couple of lines to start filming their walk across the lawn.

Then they have to wait around to do their pre-challenge interviews, and then they finally get to enter the tent. Noah unloads his backpack and stows it away, checking over his ingredients and tools, smoothing out the paper his recipe is printed on and re-reading it for the millionth time. When it’s finally time to take their marks behind their benches, aprons on, the hosts and judges come through the doors of the tent, and Noah feels nerves buzz under his skin.

The buzz gets stronger as Dan and Julia explain the showstopper, a birthday cake challenge that will require not only an excellent cake but also decorations that show off a range of skills. Like everyone else in the tent, Dan is wearing the same outfit he’d had on the day before, and he looks unfairly good where Noah just feels rumpled and already sweatier than he’d like to be. There’s little to no airflow in the tent, and it’s only going to get worse as everyone starts scurrying around, with the ovens going and the tension ratcheting up.

“Ready, set, bake,” Dan and Julia chorus, and Noah pushes all thoughts from his mind other than executing a perfect bake.

As Noah is sifting his dry ingredients, a camera guy approaches. He smiles as he sets up at the end of Noah’s counter, and Noah nods back.

“Philippe, right?” Noah asks, double-checking his recipe before he starts on the next step.

“That’s right. You ready to tell me about your cake?”

“Sure.” Noah needs to go grab his eggs, but he can work on laying out his bowl and whisk as he talks. “I’m baking my mom’s favorite birthday cake. It’s the reason I’m here, actually, so it seemed fitting.” Philippe makes a little “go on” motion with his hand, so Noah tucks his hands into his pockets and goes on. “It’s an olive oil citrus cake. Last time I made it for her she said it would be good enough to win the _Great Canadian Baking Show_ , and then she encouraged me to try out. And here I am.” He chuckles slightly, anxious to get back to work, and Philippe nods.

“That’s good for now, thanks.”

He’s interrupted again a few minutes later, this time by Dan and the judges. Noah’s skin prickles as they line up in front of him, but he focuses on zesting his orange so he doesn’t catch his fingers instead. He glances up briefly to welcome them to his station, and Dan’s got his usual sideways smile on his face.

“Tell us about your cake,” Rochelle prompts, and Noah goes into his spiel once more. He knows it’ll be edited differently before airing, so it won’t seem repetitive. 

“Are you worried at all that it’s a little simple for a showstopper?” Bruno asks. It’s not unkind, and it’s nothing Noah hasn’t thought about since submitting the recipe and description to production.

“I think it’ll be elegant. And it’s for my mom. I wouldn’t be here without her, or this cake.” He swallows against a lump of nerves and emotion, and cuts his eyes to Dan again. There’s something on his face that soothes Noah, steadies his hand as he scrapes down the sides of his mixing bowl with a spatula.

“That’s lovely,” Rochelle says, and that helps too. Noah smiles and thanks them as they move on to the next baker. He doesn’t watch Dan’s shoulders shift under his shirt, because he has more important matters at hand. He has to make sure that every part of his cake is exceptional, and he has to do it quickly.

Dan stops by one more time, making the rounds and tasting things as he did the day before. This time his eyes sparkle as he takes in the array of peels that cover Noah’s work surface.

“What are we doing over here?” 

“I am making citrus peel roses.”

“And this?” Dan waves his hand over the wire rack where grapefruit and lemon slices are drying.

“That would be candied citrus, also for the top of my cake.” Noah tips his chin at them. “The original recipe called for kumquats, but I went with grapefruit and lemon instead.”

“Thank god, I hate kumquats.”

“I know,” Noah says, without thinking. He blinks at Dan, whose mouth is twisting as his dimples deepen.

“You know?” He asks, keeping his tone light. Noah can feel heat in the tips of his ears, but he fights the instinct to duck his head.

“I’ve watched the show, I remember you trying them for the first time.” Noah chuckles at Dan’s grimace. “I wouldn’t put you through that again.”

“Well, that’s thoughtful.” Dan considers him for a moment, and then reaches a hand towards the rack. “Does that mean I can try these?”

“I did make extra. Pick an ugly one, though.”

“They’re all beautiful,” Dan murmurs, fingers hovering. He plucks up a slice of lemon that Noah would absolutely describe as ugly, the rind not sliced as evenly as the others, and rips it in half with his fingers so he can bite into the middle. Noah tries not to stare as he does, but loses that battle entirely, so instead he’s watching raptly as Dan hums in pleasure, thumbing a drop of juice from his lower lip. “And delicious,” he enthuses, bobbing in his signature way in front of the bench.

“Good,” Noah says, and drags his eyes back to the rose he’s been working on. The spiral isn’t perfect, because he’s been so distracted, so he unwraps it to re-do.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Dan says, and then he’s gone. Noah breathes out and starts his rose over again.

The rest of the challenge flies by, and he’s twirling his cake stand, going over every centimetre of his cake as critically as he can, as Dan and Julia count down to the end. Then he puts his hands up along with everyone else, looking around the tent for the first time in hours, taking in the creations. His heart sinks; the other cakes are tall and elaborate, and while he thinks his cake turned out beautifully, it does look a little inadequate amongst its fellows.

“Ooh,” Annie breathes, coming over to see. “It’s stunning!”

“You don’t think it’s too small?”

“Size shouldn’t matter,” she quips, and gives him a terrible wink. It helps, and it makes him laugh, and he bumps her shoulder with his own as they leave the tent to let the crew clean up and get everything ready for judging.

Walking back into the tent completely reverses the effect Annie’s humor had on him, and his stomach rolls with anxiety as he passes tiered cake after exquisitely decorated tiered cake. Only one other baker made something smaller, but it’s got the most stunning galaxy mirror glaze on it, so Noah doubts it will matter much. The naked sides of his cake seem glaringly basic, but he squares his shoulders and schools his expression as the cameras start rolling and the first baker carries their cake up to the front table.

Dan is the one to call Noah up, and Noah can’t even take a moment to appreciate the soft vowels and the shape Dan’s mouth makes, because he’s the closest he’s ever felt to passing out. He places his cake stand in the center of the table, turning it so the decorations on top are presented properly to Bruno and Rochelle, then steps back to be judged.

“I love the candied citrus, and your knife skills are clearly very good,” Rochelle says, gesturing at his roses. He smiles as best he can, a quick press of his lips. Most of what they say after that is lost to the thud of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears, but he catches Bruno praising how moist the cake is, and the smoothness of his buttercream.

“I do think it’s a little understated for a showstopper,” Bruno says at the end, after they’ve put down their forks. It’s not as harsh as he expected, and all the other comments he was able to process were positive.

“But your mom will be proud,” Rochelle adds, and Noah’s breath catches in his throat.

“Thank you,” is all he’s able to say before he has to gather his cake up and carry it back to his bench. He bugs his eyes at Annie, who flashes him two thumbs up.

The rest of the day is a blur; doing another interview out on the lawn, diplomatically answering questions about Bruno’s comment, laughing off his nerves. He sits in the chair assigned to him for the final announcement and looks down the row of bakers. He’s pretty sure he won’t be eliminated this week, because at least one of them had total flops in one or more of the challenges, but having to say goodbye to someone is going to suck.

Star baker goes to Miles, whose birthday cake had been a truly breathtaking thing that people will be fighting over at the end of the shoot. He’s sitting two people away from Noah, but Noah still reaches over to push at his shoulder in congratulations. Then Dan announces the elimination, a quiet woman named Patsy who Noah hasn’t had a chance to get to know yet, who came in last in the technical and made a lackluster showstopper. She doesn’t seem surprised, and accepts her hugs with a calm smile.

Noah isn’t needed for end of day interviews again, so he’s able to pack up in relative quiet. He debates grabbing a slice of his own cake to take home, but when he turns to check out the table in the back where everything is laid out, he doesn’t see it.

“Julia and I divvied your cake up.” Dan comes up behind Noah, startling him so badly Noah almost drops his bag. Noah glances over his shoulder and catches Dan’s grin. “Oh, and I let Rochelle have a slice without lemon on it.”

“Kind of you,” Noah says.

“Congratulations, man. On making it through to next week. The judges had nothing but good stuff to say about you in our wrap-up.”

“Thanks. That’s nice to hear.”

Dan nods, chewing on the corner of his mouth. Noah slides his backpack straps on and then doesn’t know what else to do, so he walks away.

Knowing Dan is going to be eating Noah’s leftover cake all week should be enough to get him through prepping for the next episode’s challenges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Signature: [St. Patrick's Day cupcakes](https://www.delish.com/cooking/recipe-ideas/recipes/a21451/chocolate-stout-cupcakes-whiskey-ganache-irish-cream-frosting-recipe-ps0313/)  
> Showstopper: [olive oil citrus cake](https://patrickredactedbrewer.tumblr.com/post/614383460378918912/the-winning-cake-in-dan-and-noahs-ew-cake-tasting) (yes, from the EW shoot, I couldn't resist)


	2. Biscuit & Bars Week

The five days between filming seem to fly by in a haze of flour, a blur of butter. Noah shows up at the Canadian Film Centre with two killer recipes that he’d practiced until he perfected them, and a few new burns, and he’s ready to get into the tent and start working.

But of course they have to film their walk first, and their first interviews. Noah gets through his fairly painlessly, clapping his new favorite cameraman Philippe on the shoulder as he passes him to go back into the tent. He cracks his knuckles as he surveys his ingredients, and then stands at the ready for the signature challenge to be announced. 

It’s their first savoury challenge, and Noah is looking forward to showing off some of his regular old cooking skills. Making crackers is new to him, but he’s pretty proud of the ones he’s devised. Dan gives him another sideways smirk when Noah goes through the ingredients with the judges, as if he thinks Noah is making a play on lox and bagels just for him. 

He’s not. He swears. But he is extremely gratified by the noise Dan makes when he swings by after a time call and dips his pinkie into the salmon spread, tongue curling suggestively around the tip as he licks it off.

“There’ll be plenty to take home, too,” Noah says, and lets a little tease into his voice. If it’s too much they can cut it out in post, he’s feeling too good to care. One of Dan’s eyebrows ticks upwards, and then he saunters away to scavenge at the other bakers’ benches. Noah ducks his face away from the camera and pretends to be absorbed in plating.

The crackers turn out amazing, and the judges agree. His spread is a little too salty according to Bruno; Noah catches the incredulous wrinkle of Dan’s nose out of the corner of his eye and has to bite his lip against a grin as he nods, taking the mild criticism. 

Sadly the technical doesn’t go nearly as well as the signature. They’re given chocolate-dipped digestive biscuits, and the recipe is once again very sparse. And then they have to temper chocolate, which Noah isn’t the best at in his climate-controlled kitchen, so he’s awful at it in the heat and humidity of the tent. He doesn’t come in dead last but it’s close, and it’s not a great end to a day that had started out so well.

Because of his low placement he has to do a post-challenge interview, and he tries to shrug off his disappointment as best he can. Hours in the heat and the rollercoaster of the day has got him in his head, and he drags his feet back inside to grab his stuff and head home. 

Dan is leaning against his workbench, legs crossed at the ankles. His ankles are bare between the rolled cuff of his pants and the low cut of his loafers, and Noah is temporarily transfixed by the dark hair that starts just above the bone. Then he tears his eyes away and meets Dan’s sympathetic look.

“That was a rough one,” Dan says, not budging as Noah starts packing up. He has to get close to grab a few things, their elbows brushing as Noah reaches for his bag of seasoning. Dan smells good, better than the lingering wafts of melted chocolate in the air, a smoky cologne scent over camera makeup and fresh sweat. Noah doesn’t want to step away, but there’s no reason to stay in his personal space after he’s grabbed what he needs, so he does.

“Ah well,” Noah says, trying to brush it off. He needs to regain some of his confidence so he can come back tomorrow and nail his showstopper. He peeks up at Dan, shrugging. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“A day I’ll be starting with your crackers and spread,” Dan says. Noah looks up again, and Dan does the mouth twist that’s become familiar to Noah already, holding back a larger grin. He lets his mind trip forward to morning, Dan in pajamas eating something Noah made, humming in pleasure. It makes heat crawl up the back of Noah’s neck, down his spine.

“Did you leave any?” He tries to combat the flush with snark, but it doesn’t appear to work. Dan’s mouth twists more, and he shakes his head. “Guess I don’t have anything for breakfast then.”

“I think there are still digestives back there,” Dan says, pushing away from the bench. “I definitely didn’t take any of those.”

“Thanks for that.” Dan lets his mouth untwist into a grin before he walks away. Noah watches him for a second, and then notices that Annie is at her counter. She opens her mouth and Noah holds up a hand. “Don’t start.”

“I was just going to say I liked your digestives.”

“You were not.”

Annie’s eyes sparkle with mischief, and Noah shakes his head. He needs to clear it, get home and get some rest and get back here ready to bake. Annie’s laughter follows him out of the tent.

𝆩

Sleep doesn’t come so easily, and then it’s interrupted by a dream about Dan and cream cheese spread that skirts the border between weird and really hot, and then Noah’s awake and downing a mugful of coffee before it’s cooled enough to be palatable. He pours more into a travel mug, because it’s going to be that kind of day, and then checks to make sure he has everything he needs for his showstopper bake packed up and heads out.

Their challenge is a biscuit box, and 36 identical cookies to go inside that box. Noah spent a lot of hours thinking up and then discarding concepts for his box, and finally landed on an idea put forth by the goalie on his pick-up hockey team. A sugar cookie “sin bin,” complete with edible sugar glass, to be filled with chocolate-covered sandwich cookies that he’ll make to look like pucks. Obviously he’d chosen to do a chocolate-covered cookie before the disaster of the technical the day before, but he doesn’t have to temper the chocolate to get it to look like vulcanized rubber, so he should be safe.

Noah had put thoughts of Dan out of his head while brushing his teeth that morning, and has kept them at bay until the moment Dan enters the tent. He’s not even looking at Noah, but he somehow manages to convey “I ate food you made this morning” with the set of his shoulders and the quirk of his eyebrow as he looks out over the bakers. He even skips meeting Noah’s eyes, which Noah is sure he does on purpose, and Noah can’t help an amused shake of his head.

Then Dan and Julia say in soft stereo, “Bake.” And Noah’s brain goes blank except for his task.

His recipe is laid out to time, and he’s got to keep to it if he wants to get everything done. There are so many components, and time needed for cooling and decorating. The four and a half hours they have are going to seem like seconds.

Thankfully it’s Julia who visits Noah, after their halfway mark time call. She’s a pleasant presence over his shoulder as he rolls out chilled dough, touching his arm briefly before she moves on to the next baker. He does have to take a break to talk to the judges, and they seem delighted by his concept, which helps him get back into gear. His elbows are aching, sweat rolling steadily down his back, but he still has to get the dulce de leche piped onto his cookies and get them coated, and he has to finish the construction of the penalty box and make the glass and …

He takes a deep breath, re-scans his recipe, and then dives back in.

The texture on the edges of his cookies is perfect and puck-like, the glass is only slightly warped in spots, and his pick-up team’s logo has been airbrushed onto the iced cookie “boards” of the penalty box without any smearing. He’s pretty damn proud of his creation, and he’s got the last touches completed before the countdown to the end of the challenge even starts. A quick glance around the tent shows Karen struggling to finish up her music box, and he rushes out from behind his bench to help.

“What can I do?” he asks, and then does as he’s told, hands flying as he loads cookies in under the lid. They finish just in time, and Karen lets out a relieved sigh. He holds his hand up for a sticky high-five, laughing along with her. The noise in the tent doubles as everyone gets out of their heads and admires each other’s handiwork.

Then it’s time for judging.

Pride and anxiety war for space in Noah’s chest as he carries his sin bin up to the front table. The tray he chose looks just like ice, especially after he scuffed it up with an Exacto knife, and even if his glass isn’t perfect he thinks it looks pretty damn cool. He can’t wait for his team to see their idea and their logo on television.

“It turned out exactly as you described it,” Rochelle enthuses, leaning to look at all sides. She and Bruno make excited noises at all the right things, and then even more excited noises as they taste the cookies.

“The dulce de leche with the orange zest and the chocolate is perfect,” Bruno says, and taps the outside of the cookie. “They might be textured like hockey pucks, but they don’t taste like them.”

Noah laughs, and thanks them, and then chances a glance at Dan. He’s grinning, not bothering to suppress it at all, and Noah grins right back as he picks up his tray and goes back to his counter.

His interview goes much better today than it had at the end of yesterday, and he gives his team a little shoutout, knowing they’ll all be watching when the episode actually airs. Then he sits between Rizwan and Miles and awaits their fate. When Rizwan is announced Star Baker, Noah bumps his shoulder hard, knocking him into Annie on his other side. They’re still getting their smiles under control when Julia announces Jordan is the elimination, and Noah slips off his stool to give the kid a hug. Thankfully he’s not too upset, all smiles as he’s sandwiched between Dan and Julia.

It feels routine already, to come back from an interview out on the lawn to find Dan hoarding Noah’s leftovers. He’s biting into a puck cookie as Noah approaches, and the way he licks dulce de leche off his lips is enough to raise the temperature in the tent at least ten degrees.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to swipe any of this out of the bowl earlier,” he says after he chews and swallows. He holds the half-eaten cookie up and shakes it a little. “This is fucking incredible.”

“Wow,” Noah says, ready to tease but taken back by the effusive cursing. “Thank you.”

“You play hockey?”

“I do.”

Dan nods, gaze assessing. Noah meets it, leaning his hip against his bench and crossing his arms. Dan’s eyes skip down to Noah’s forearms, then back up. Noah lets a slow smile spread across his face, and keeps it in place as Dan pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

They’re not standing particularly close, but the air between them is charged, and neither one of them seem to want to break eye contact. There’s a whole list of reasons why Noah should shut this down, an even longer list of why Dan should. But if he’s not going to, Noah isn’t. Instead he lets his smile curl, narrowing his eyes. Dan swallows, and then backs up a step.

“I’m glad today went better than yesterday,” Dan says, and he’s sincere under the layer of teasing that he can’t seem to keep out of his tone.

“Now you have breakfast and dessert,” Noah says, nodding at the container of cookies Dan has under one arm.

Dan hums and keeps backing away. “Two meals out of four,” he says, and then turns on his heel to leave.

Noah wonders if he has to wait the full eight weeks to ask Dan out for one of the other two meals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Signature: [spicy everything bagel cheddar cheese crackers](https://thebeachhousekitchen.com/2015/06/18/spicy-everything-bagel-cheddar-cheese-crackers/) and [smoked salmon spread](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/15361/smoked-salmon-spread/)  
> Showstopper: Puck cookies used [this recipe](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2011/12/fine-cookings-chocolate-covered-sandwich-cookies-with-dulce-de-leche-alfajores.html)


	3. Canada Week

Not every season of the _Great Canadian Baking Show_ has had a Canada Week, and Noah is so glad that he gets to participate in one. He’s very proud of the Canadian half of his citizenship, and he’s gotten really good at making a few recipes that are considered quintessentially Canadian. 

Like the butter tart. Which just so happens to be episode three’s signature challenge.

“It’s sort of a very buttery custard,” Noah explains when Philippe comes over to ask for a description of butter tarts for the camera. “Inside of a flaky pastry crust.” Noah is working on his crust as he speaks, but he takes the time to step back from the counter and make eye contact, the way the producers instructed them all to do. “Some people prefer butter crust, some lard, and if you ask 100 people about the filling you’ll probably get 100 different answers.”

“What about yours,” Philippe asks, and Noah props a hand on his bench, the other on his hip.

“Butter crust, firmer filling, no raisins, if we’re talking traditional. But I love an offbeat tart.” He straightens up again to gesture at his counter, the ingredients he’s laid out for his signature tarts. “As you can see.”

He gets a thumbs up from Philippe, who turns to chat with Miles next, and then he goes back to his bake.

The offbeat recipes he’s using for his tarts are two he’s perfected over several years of being asked to make them for family gatherings. Maple bacon is his dad’s favorite, with candied bacon bits in the filling, and his brownie butter tarts have been his go-to birthday gift for his sister since the first time he made them and she polished off the whole batch in the middle of the night.

“How do you incorporate the brownie into the tart?” Rochelle asks when the judges make their rounds. Dan is with them, and Noah tilts him a smile before he answers the question.

“There’s a thin layer of brownie at the bottom of the tart,” Noah explains. He’s working on his brownie batter right at that moment, conveniently, and he can tell Dan wants to taste. He makes a mental note to set some aside for when he comes back around to scavenge at each station. “And then I pipe the tart filling on top.”

It’s only week three but he’s already used to the exaggerated skepticism, so he just chuckles to himself as everyone wishes him luck and moves on. He knows it sounds weird, and butter tart purists will hate the concept, but they’re delicious and they meet the challenge brief, and that’s all that matters.

Noah feels Dan’s arrival before he hears it and sees it, more and more attuned to his presence and proximity in the tent every minute, and he reaches out to nudge the bowl of brownie batter closer to the edge of the bench.

“Am I that predictable?”

Noah shrugs, intent on whisking his tart filling. He peeks over just in time to see Dan’s eyes flutter closed as he sucks brownie mix off his finger.

“Oh god,” he says, and Noah’s whole stomach clenches with want. He looks over again, smiles at Dan’s fist shake of delight. “Yes, Noah.”

It’s almost as if he knows exactly what he’s saying and how he’s saying it. Noah lets his eyes linger a beat longer than is camera-appropriate, tucking his tongue into his cheek before saying, “It’ll be even better when it’s all together.”

“Hm,” Dan says, and the hum vibrates through the space between them and up Noah’s spine, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Can’t wait.”

There are beads of sweat popping up along his hairline, and he has to take a couple of deep breaths before he can fill his piping bags and start assembly. Not throwing himself at Dan is going to be a bigger challenge than trying to win this damn contest.

The best thing about the judging of signature challenges is that it happens right at their stations, and Dan comes along. Which means Noah is treated to Dan popping an entire brownie butter tart into his mouth in one go, eyes trained on Noah as he closes his lips and chews. The noise he makes is obscene, and almost makes Noah miss Bruno and Rochelle’s enthusiastic compliments. He has to swallow thickly before he can say thank you, and then wipe his sweaty palms on his apron front after the camera has turned away.

Noah has a great technical bake, too, coming in second to Rizwan only because his maple leaf cookies had slightly too much sugar sprinkled on top. He’s pulled outside for an interview, a task he’s warmed up to now that he’s gotten to know Philippe and some of the other camera operators, and the producers as well. It’s especially easy after a great day like today, so he laughs and smiles his way through it and then goes back to get his things.

It makes the disappointment even sharper when Dan is nowhere to be found. He’s already so used to having Dan’s long, lean form lounging against his bench, that he feels adrift as he silently packs up to head home. He stops off at the table in the back before he leaves, and the lack of leftovers of his butter tarts is mildly comforting at least. Maybe Dan had to film something extra, or leave early for some reason. It’s not like he’s required to stay after and chat with Noah.

And Noah isn’t going to let something so silly ruin his day. He grabs one of Annie’s caramel apple butter tarts for the road and heads out, soaking up the warmth of the early evening sun as he trots down the steps to the lawn.

“Noah!”

He freezes on the path, then turns. Dan is coming around the corner of the tent, long strides eating up the deck before he comes down the steps. “Hey, sorry, our post-challenge bit with the judges ran long.”

Noah shakes his head. “You don’t have to be sorry, you’re not required to stay after and talk to me.”

“I know. But the least I can do is thank the man who’s kept me in desserts for weeks.” He sucks in a grin, and Noah laughs. It would be so easy to reach out, grab the collar of Dan’s breezy, linen-looking shirt, and drag him in for a kiss. Noah would start with the bitten-in corner of his mouth. He can almost feel the pucker of it against his lips.

Instead, he curls his fingers in his backpack straps and shuffles the soles of his shoes against the cement.

“So you’re the reason why I don’t have any of my own leftovers to take home yet again.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but.”

Noah laughs. “That’s okay, I’m flattered.”

Dan nods, mouth tightening even more, as if he’s losing control over his own smile. Noah takes a breath, trying to decide where to go from here. He’s about to open his mouth, to say what he doesn’t know, when Rizwan and Karen burst from the tent, chattering excitedly.

“Noah!” Rizwan calls, and Dan takes a step back.

“See you tomorrow,” he says. He waves to the other bakers and Noah watches his back retreat around the corner of the tent. Then he greets Rizwan with a smile and walks with him out onto the grounds, towards the parking lot.

𝆩

The showstopper bake goes so well that Noah actually thinks he has a chance at Star Baker. The judges rave about his lime zest doughnuts filled with passionfruit curd, and Rochelle even goes for a second bite of his baked Earl Grey doughnuts with pomegranate balsamic glaze. He knows they’re tasty, that the filled doughnuts are fried perfectly, that his glaze turned out better than it ever had in a home practice. He’s already filed away the noise Dan made when he tasted the passionfruit curd for multiple future fantasies. He feels very confident as he does his post-challenge interview, and several of the other bakers give him knowing glances as they take their seats for the announcements.

There’s still a moment after Julia says his name that Noah is convinced he’s heard her wrong. But George is leaning into his side with a quiet, “Congratulations, bud.” Punam is squeezing his hand on the other side, and Annie lets out a little whoop of excitement that makes a laugh burst out of Noah, unbidden. “Wow,” he says, unsure what else to say. It feels really fucking good, but he doubts the editors would love him letting that thought out into the air. “Thank you,” is about all he can come up with. Especially since he’s just caught the gleam of Dan’s eyes, the proud curve of his smile, and he’s not sure he can catch a proper breath.

Then Dan has to school his expression and make the elimination announcement. This week it’s Sam, a lovely lady that reminds Noah of his mom, who has tears streaming down her face as she tries to reassure everyone who crowds around her. “It’s okay, it was my time,” she murmurs as she accepts Noah’s hug. “I knew you were going to get it this week, great job.”

He shakes his head over her shoulder, then lets her go so she can finish her rounds. Jenna, one of the producers, is beckoning him away from the group to do his interview, and he steps out into the bright sunshine with a big smile.

“How does it feel?” She rolls her eyes, because she knows how pointless the questions are even as she knows they’re required. Noah laughs.

“It’s an honor,” he says, and suddenly his eyes feel hot, and there’s a lump in his throat. “It’s actually making me a little emotional.” He laughs again, to try to dislodge the lump, and manages to finish the interview without actually crying. He still has to press his thumb to the corner of his eye as he heads back towards the tent, and catches a bit of moisture on it that could be sweat from his temple but probably isn’t.

“Hey,” he hears, right as he raises his foot to go up the steps. It’s Dan, standing around the corner of the deck, hair still perfect despite the frantic day and the humidity. Noah changes course, and as he gets closer Dan backs up until they’re all the way out of sight of the doors to the tent. “I didn’t really get a chance to say congratulations,” he says, and then bites his lips together. Noah waits.

“Are you going to say it now?” he finally asks. Dan’s cheeks pull tight and then his grin pops out, like not even his teeth could contain it.

“Congratulations, Noah.” His voice is low, warmer than the air around them. It draws Noah in, his upper body swaying forward until he has to shuffle his feet in the grass to keep from tipping over. Dan’s eyes sparkle, and Noah can’t take it anymore. He lets himself pitch forward.

He manages to land his mouth right on the curled up corner of Dan’s grin, and it tastes just as sweet as Noah knew it would. The kiss gets even sweeter as Noah slides his mouth more firmly over Dan’s, and hotter too, especially when Dan parts his lips just enough to gasp quietly into Noah’s mouth. They’re not touching anywhere else; Noah has one hand on the side of the deck to keep his balance, and one still shoved in his pocket, and he has no idea where Dan’s are. He doesn’t care, because he’s focused on slowly licking over the curve of Dan’s mouth, the sharp edge of his teeth.

“Thanks,” Noah manages to say, when he pulls back just enough to breathe. He doesn’t open his eyes, keeps himself suspended there until Dan initiates the next kiss.

Then he feels Dan’s hand on his jaw, fingers fitting perfectly behind his ear. It’s like a brand, Dan’s palm hot and his fingertips pressing, the pinkie he uses for tasting flirting with the collar of Noah’s shirt. Noah lets Dan have the control he’s looking for, not pressing back against Dan’s hand urging him to tilt his head, opening up for Dan’s tongue as soon as it touches Noah’s lips.

The kiss gets wet and a little messy, and he’s sweaty, and Dan smells fucking incredible up close, and Noah just won Star Baker, and this is officially the best day ever.

“Wow,” Noah hears, and blinks his eyes open to realize Dan ended their kiss seconds ago and Noah has just been standing there zoned out with his eyes closed. Dan bites down a smile again, dimple in his cheek giving him away. “That good?’

“Shut up,” Noah says, and then laughs. “Is this how you congratulate all the Star Bakers?”

“Just the ones who keep me fed,” Dan says. His hand is still on Noah’s jaw, and he uses it to draw Noah forward for another kiss. He keeps this one light, almost chaste, but it still makes Noah’s blood thrum. “Thanks for the doughnuts, by the way,” Dan murmurs against Noah’s mouth.

“Thought you weren’t a passionfruit guy.”

Dan shrugs, and then drops his hand, backing away. “I can be, if I’m in the right mood.”

Noah reaches out for him, but he’s too far away to grab. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Home.”

Noah gapes, and Dan just smiles wider, then turns his back to Noah and walks away.

And now Noah has to wait almost six whole days to see him again. With no way of contacting him. He rubs his neck, where he can still feel the press of Dan’s fingers, and sighs.

It’s going to be a long week.


	4. Bread Week

Thank goodness Noah can compartmentalize fairly well, otherwise his week would have been a disaster. As it is he had to drag himself out of replaying Dan’s kisses several times while kneading dough. He did learn that proofing time for his beer cheese bread is long enough to jerk off, clean up, and still get the fillings completely prepared. Not that he’ll need that knowledge on baking day, but it had been a relief at home, when just remembering the feeling of Dan’s big, warm palm on his jaw was enough to get Noah hard.

He has no idea what to expect when he arrives at check-in, and the walk across the lawn with the cameras feels never-ending and way too short all at the same time. Then they’re at the tent, and the producers split them up for interviews.

“Are you feeling some pressure, coming into this week as Star Baker?” Jenna asks Noah, crossing something off her clipboard and then looking up at him expectantly.

Hopefully his answer is coherent, and not embarrassing, but he’ll have to find out after the episode airs because just as he opens his mouth to answer her, the judges and hosts come around the corner of the tent and Noah’s mind goes totally blank.

The jeans that Dan is wearing are light wash, rolled up at the ankle, and do incredible things for the lines of his thighs and hips. He’s wearing a breezy printed shirt, and it’s tucked in, and he looks frankly edible. Noah’s throat goes dry, and he has to cough into his fist before he finishes whatever the hell he’s been rambling on about to the camera.

“You good?” Jenna asks, and Noah nods, eyes snapping back to hers.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” Noah glances back at Dan, just as Dan looks over and sees Noah. The smile that spreads across Dan’s face is hotter than the mid-morning sun that’s already beating down on the back of Noah’s neck, and he actually lets Noah have the full wattage of it before he turns back to Julia, and they climb the steps up to the deck. “Is that all?”

“Are you nervous about bread week?” Jenna asks, thankfully interpreting his inattentiveness. 

Noah isn’t lying when he says yes. He’s never been the best at bread, but he feels good about the recipes he’s chosen, and he’s been feeding his sourdough starter regularly. He just hopes he can tune everything—namely Dan—out, and focus.

At least focus enough not to totally screw up.

Once he’s in the tent, he puts all thoughts of Dan’s hips and mouth and hands out of his mind, and concentrates on laying everything out in order he’ll need it. They only have a few hours for their first bake, and Noah is going to have to manage his time very wisely.

They take their marks at their benches, don their aprons, and then the show begins.

The original recipe for the cheddar, beer, and mustard bread Noah chose for the shareable loaf challenge calls for kneading with the stand mixer, but Noah prefers working the dough with his hands. As he tells Philippe, or more accurately the lens of Philippe’s camera, “I want to know what the dough is doing, and the best way for me to tell is to feel it.” He’s glad he chose just a t-shirt for this week, because it’s already sweltering in the tent and kneading is sweaty work. He might have to wash it when he gets home so it’s not reeking when he was to re-wear it for day two.

His mind drifts with that thought, going home and doing laundry, as he kneads. The dough doesn’t have to be worked very hard or very long, but even a few minutes of kneading can be meditative. Therapeutic.

He’s pulled out of his head by the arrival of the judges. And Dan. Dan, who stands at Rochelle’s shoulder and doesn’t say a word but still commands most of Noah’s attention. Dan, whose face is twisted with an infuriating smirk. Dan, who ogles Noah’s forearms shamelessly while Bruno asks about the type of dough that Noah is working with.

Noah takes one second to breathe, and then gets back to work.

Naturally Dan comes back right when Noah is at the fiddliest part of the whole bake. He insinuates himself into Noah’s space, reaching out to grab the open bottle of beer on Noah’s bench.

“Baking with alcohol again, I see.”

“I like beer,” Noah says, carefully measuring and scoring his dough so he can cut it into even strips. His bowl of butter-mustard-Worcestershire mixture is at his elbow, and he knocks against it to alert Dan to its presence. “No beer in that.”

“Hm,” Dan hums, and gets a spoon so he can dip it into the mixture for a taste. “Oh,” he says, and the low pitch of it goes straight to Noah’s dick. He shifts his hips closer to the bench, hunching awkwardly over the surface of it, and cuts his eyes at Dan. Dan licks the spoon, watching Noah watch him, and smiles. “That’s great.”

“Thanks,” Noah says, voice rough. The corner of Dan’s mouth ticks up, but he doesn’t say anything else. He clanks the spoon down and walks away.

Noah’s bread is amazing, if he says so himself, though he doesn’t need to because the judges agree. It’s golden brown, it pulls apart easily, and it tastes fantastic, which Noah learns for himself when the cameras are focused on the front, where Punam is being judged, and Noah can tear off a chunk to try. He flashes Annie a thumbs up as he chews, and she rolls her eyes. As they reset for the next challenge, she crosses the aisle to pinch off a piece.

“Gotta grab it now, since I know there won’t be any left later,” she says, popping it into her mouth with an exaggerated wink. Noah doesn’t reward her with an answer.

The technical isn’t terrible, per se, but it’s not great. Noah doesn’t get the shape of the brioche à tête quite right, which puts him pretty solidly at the bottom of the pack. George’s is just slightly worse, so he’s last, which saves Noah having to do an interview. He’s still pretty bummed as he packs up.

He draws it out, slowly placing things into his backpack, piling up the dishes for the clean-up crew, and then re-stacking them. He loiters at the leftovers table, then goes back to his bench to make sure he has everything. But even with all that stalling, Dan still doesn’t show.

“They’re still in their post-chat thing,” Annie says, materializing at Noah’s elbow as he leisurely draws the straps of his bag up over his shoulders. 

“Who?” Noah asks innocently, but he’s not fooling Annie. She proves that by rolling her eyes.

“Is there anything going on there, or is it just eye fucking and innuendo still?”

“Annie,” Noah says, glancing around to make sure no one can hear her. “That would be wildly unprofessional.”

“Uh huh, so you’re telling me nothing is happening?”

There is literally nothing Noah can do to stop the flush he feels on his neck, and she nods. 

“I would very much like details, but he just walked in so I’m just going to say go get him, tiger, and leave you to it.” She punches him in the shoulder, hard enough to make him reach up instinctively to rub the spot, and then gives Dan a lighter punch as she passes him on the way out.

“Why is Annie assaulting you?” Dan asks, stopping at the end of Noah’s bench.

“She’s a violent person. Rage issues, I suggested she seek help.”

“She does seem the type.”

They stand there and grin at each other for a moment, as various members of the crew move around them, cleaning up the tent. Punam waves at Noah as she grabs her things to head home, and he waves back, and when he looks back at Dan, the tilt of Dan’s mouth makes something urgent well up in Noah’s chest.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. He feels reckless, his skin buzzing. Dan’s eyebrows lift. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Oh,” Dan says. Behind the lenses of his glasses his eyes go wide. “I, uh, I have something going on tonight. Plans, with friends.”

The disappointment cuts clean through Noah’s courage, but then Dan looks around and drops his voice. “I’m free tomorrow though. After filming.”

There’s a swoop in Noah’s stomach, a surge of hope that almost leaves him breathless. “Wanna get dinner with me?”

Dan laughs, a quiet little chuckle that makes Noah’s heart thump in his chest. Then he nods. Noah has several scraps of paper in his pocket, recipe notes that are smeared with butter and flour, and he smooths one of them out on the counter. Dan gets the hint, opening a couple of drawers until he finds a pen, and then writes his number down.

“I’ll text you tonight.”

“I’ll be busy with my friends,” Dan says, but he’s smiling so Noah doesn’t take him too seriously.

“I hope they enjoy my bread,” Noah calls as Dan walks away, and Dan’s responding laugh floats back to him on the warm breeze coming in through the open doors of the tent. Noah folds the paper carefully and tucks it back into his pocket. Then he settles his backpack straps on his shoulders and goes out into the sun.

Noah puts Dan’s number into his phone as soon as he gets home, but doesn’t use it right away. He goes over his notes for the showstopper, makes himself an easy dinner, has a beer on his back deck, plays a little guitar in his basement. He opens a new message once every five minutes, but his nerves get the better of him. Even after their brief makeout session last week and Dan agreeing to a date, Noah is nervous. Somehow flirting in person with cameras on them is easier than sending a text.

Eventually he just taps out a quick greeting, because he wants Dan to have his number, and hits send. He busies himself cleaning up his kitchen, turning off all the lights in the house before he shuffles off to bed.

He’s just crawling under the covers when his phone lights up on the nightstand. Noah almost faceplants in his pillows, his hand shoots out from under him so fast, but he rolls at the last second and lands on his back on the mattress, lifting his phone over his face.

_My friends did enjoy your bread._

Tone is difficult in text form, but Noah can hear the teasing lilt of Dan’s voice, and it stokes the heat that’s been banked in his stomach all day. Noah grins to himself, imagining Dan showing off Noah’s baking to his buddies.

_I’m glad. Got something even better planned for tomorrow._

_For the challenge or for after?_

After. Thinking about that makes the heat in Noah’s stomach swirl lower, and he shifts his hips against the bed. He’s wearing gym shorts that slide over his skin, and the sensation sends a shiver up his spine.

_Oh, am I baking you something after?_

The dots appear, and then disappear, and Noah chews his lip. He hadn’t thought about what a date would mean when he asked, he just knew that he didn’t want Dan walking away from him again after the day was done. They probably shouldn’t go out in public; he hadn’t been lying when he told Annie that messing around with Dan during the competition was wildly unprofessional. There might even be something in his contract about it.

Before Dan can compose his response, Noah taps out another message.

_If I’m cooking, then you have to come home with me._

Noah drops his phone onto his chest, where his heart is pounding. It takes a minute for the screen to light up again, and Noah takes a deep breath, then tilts the screen up.

_Deal._

He locks the screen and smiles into the darkness of his bedroom.

𝆩

Knowing that Dan is going home with Noah at the end of the day does not make enduring his presence any easier. He manages to look even more delectable as he saunters into the tent at Julia’s side, even though he’s wearing the same outfit as the day before and they’re filming in what is basically a sauna. The armpits of Noah’s t-shirt are already damp, and he’s sure his hair is a mess.

The hosts quip their way through introducing the showstopper, a sculpture made of bread, and then start the clock. Noah has a lot of work ahead of him, so he puts on imaginary blinders and reaches for his flour sifter.

There’s a rhythm to the way each challenge is filmed, one that Noah and the other bakers have acclimated themselves to over the last few weeks. The rotation of cameras, hosts, and judges are so rote that Noah isn’t startled when Philippe is suddenly at his side. He just offers the camera a nod, and then starts answering questions.

Noah isn’t completely confident in his rye sourdough boule as he tucks the pans into the oven, but there’s nothing to be done about them now. His arms are feeling the strain of so much kneading, but with his baguette dough proofing he doesn’t have a lot left to do. He shakes them out, making Miles laugh, and that’s when Dan chooses to bring the judges over to Noah’s table.

“Arms tired?” Bruno asks with a knowing chuckle. 

“Not too bad,” Noah says, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter and watching Dan’s eyes trace the lines of Noah’s forearms. He flexes a little, and adds, “Not yet at least.” He tries to lace it with as much innuendo as he thinks he can get away with, and Dan’s eyes skip up to Noah’s face. He cocks a single eyebrow, and Noah lets a sly grin spread across his face.

“What is your sculpture?” Rochelle asks then, and Noah launches into a description of his guitar. While he talks he starts his grissini, getting everything into the bowl of his stand mixer so the yeast can activate. It has to sit for a bit to get foamy, but he’s so pressed for time he doesn’t want to wait until after the judges leave to start. And besides, it’s nice to have something to do with his hands.

“Thank you,” Rochelle says when Noah’s done, and he thinks they look suitably impressed. Or at least they don’t look disappointed yet, which is a good sign. Dan turns back as they walk away, a little glance like he can’t help himself, and Noah gives him a grin before he reaches out for his flour to finish his breadsticks.

He makes extra, which he’s learned is a standard strategy for all the bakers, who make extras of whatever they reasonably can in case something goes wrong. But they also all make extras for Dan to sample. His scavenging missions are a running joke on the show, but they make everyone in the tent happy. The bakers get validation, Dan gets fed, and the producers get B-roll footage they can toss into an episode as filler. It’s win-win-win. 

The validation is obviously Noah’s favorite part of Dan making the rounds, sampling as he goes. The noises of pleasure that Dan makes get more obscene every week, Noah swears, and he’s extra showy as he snaps a finished grissini with his teeth. They’re pretty simple, crispy breadsticks, but Dan acts like it’s the finest delicacy he’s ever had in his mouth, and from the way he twists his lips he knows the effect he’s having on Noah. He flicks his fingers to free them of stray seeds and smirks like he’s being paid to do it.

Philippe wanders away before Dan does, so the cameras aren’t around when Dan steps into Noah’s space and leans in to speak into his ear.

“Can’t wait to see what you have for me after this,” Dan says, voice low and breath warm against Noah’s skin. Noah suppresses a shiver, cutting his eyes around the tent. No one is watching them, too focused on their own bakes, and Dan steps back as quickly as he’d swooped in. He pops his eyebrows up once, then crosses behind Noah with a brief brush of his knuckles to the small of Noah’s back. His host smile is firmly back in place when he stops at Annie’s station to steal one of the little rolls she’s laid out, and Noah shakes his head to clear it.

There’s a bread guitar to assemble.

All in all, he’s pleased with the fruits of his labour—or the breads, more appropriately. His boules are denser than he would like, and his baguette doesn’t have the crunchiest crust. He hasn’t totally bombed in his Star Baker follow-up week though, and that’s good enough for him. 

Dan calls Annie’s name for Star Baker, and she tries to play off like it’s not a big deal to her but Noah can see how her eyes are shining, and he can’t wait to give her a big hug as soon as they’re allowed off their stools. George is eliminated, which everyone including him had been expecting. It’s still hard to say goodbye, and Noah knows it’s only going to get harder as their circle gets tighter. Giving Annie her congratulatory squeeze feels great though, and she lets the sentimental moment stretch longer than Noah expects her to.

“I need to steal some of those rolls before Dan snatches them all up,” Noah says, and Annie laughs.

“For once, I might be filling him up more than you are.”

Heat floods Noah’s face, and Annie laughs.

“I swear, I didn’t even mean that to sound dirty,” she insists, and Noah tries to glare at her and fails miserably. Then a producer is calling her name and she smacks the back of her hand to his chest. “Sorry, bud, gotta go.”

He’s left with red cheeks and the mental images Annie’s turn of phrase gave him, packing up his station and really thinking about the rest of the day for the first time. He stalls out with his hand in his backpack, still clutching the empty jar he’d brought his sourdough starter in, staring off into space. A throat clearing brings him to, and he releases the jar, dropping it into his bag.

It’s Dan, obviously, fidgeting at the end of Noah’s bench. The uncertainty is so uncharacteristic it makes something tender unfurl in Noah’s chest. He zips his bag and shoulders it.

“Do you have a car here?” Noah asks, and Dan nods. “You want to just follow me back to my place?” Dan nods again. “Great, I’m heading out now if you’re done.”

“Just one more trip past the leftovers and then I’m set,” he says, and he looks more himself now, shoulders set and smiling.

“I’m going to feed you,” Noah says, and Dan laughs.

“Sure, tonight. But I have to get through the rest of my week, too.”

Noah resists offering to feed Dan for the rest of the week, or beyond, but barely. “I’ll head out to the lot.”

He sits in his car until he sees Dan cresting the hill, coming up from the tent. He has his elbow out the open window, and he gives Dan a wave so Dan knows which car to follow. Dan waves back, unlocking his own car with the fob in his hand. He waits until Noah pulls out of his parking spot and then comes up behind. Noah feels jittery, glancing in his rearview at Dan at every red light and stop sign. He puts his window up and blasts the air conditioning, and hopes he’s still somewhat presentable when they park in his driveway.

“So,” Noah says, as soon as they’re inside with the door closed behind them. Dan nods like he’s agreeing, even though Noah hasn’t said anything to agree with, and then he comes at Noah so quickly that Noah almost doesn’t have time to brace himself for the impact. As it is he stumbles slightly backwards under the force of Dan’s kiss, Dan’s arms around him the only things keeping him from toppling all the way over onto the hardwood of his living room floor.

Their kiss outside the tent had been hot, but this is—it’s incendiary, having the full length of Dan pressed up against him, Dan’s hands on his back, one sliding up into the short hairs at the back of Noah’s head. Noah touches Dan’s bristly cheek, the lobe of his ear, his other hand fumbling with the bottom of Dan’s shirt so he can get under it and feel the bare skin of his hip. Noah’s lips are tingling, and his knees are trembling, and Dan makes a noise in the back of his throat that Noah wants to hear a million more times before the night is over.

Dan pulls back, gulps air, and then kisses across Noah’s jaw and down the side of his neck, tongue magically finding spots that seem directly linked to Noah’s dick. “I had,” Noah starts before he has to break off to gasp as Dan nips him, “plans to feed you.”

“Mmhm,” Dan hums, the vibration of it against Noah’s neck making him shudder.

“I was going to make focaccia,” Noah says, tipping his head back and threading his fingers into Dan’s lush, soft hair. Dan goes still, and it takes Noah a second to realize that Dan has straightened up and is staring at him. “What?”

“You were going to make me more bread?”

“Well,” Noah can’t interpret the expression on Dan’s face, distracted by his blown-wide pupils and the flush on his cheeks. “Yeah?”

“Oh my god,” Dan says, and drops his forehead down to thunk it against Noah’s collarbone. Noah blinks down at his hair, where Noah’s fingers are still tangled. “You’ve been baking bread nonstop for two days—longer, I’m sure, with practice, and you still want to bake me bread? That’s so hot.”

A laugh startles out of Noah, and he uses his grip in Dan’s hair to tug his head up so Noah can see his face. “I didn’t really think about it that way, honestly.”

Dan’s mouth draws down with a little whimper. “That’s even hotter, honestly.” He stares at Noah for a beat, and then pets at his shoulders before squeezing them. “And as hot as that kiss was, I would not say no to watching you make more bread.”

“It does need to be kneaded several times. And there is rising time, which we’ll have to figure out how to fill.”

“Are you trying to be suggestive, because bread baking has never sounded so filthy to me.”

Noah laughs again, and Dan darts in to kiss him while his lips are still parted, keeping it light and almost chaste, before stepping back. “Okay,” Noah says, and reaches out to take Dan’s hand, fitting their palms together. “Let me show you my kitchen.”

Dan hovers at Noah’s elbow while he puts the focaccia dough together, asking questions about the recipe, the technique, how Noah got into baking. When Noah starts kneading, Dan reaches over and skims his fingers up Noah’s forearm. “I couldn’t stop watching you this weekend,” Dan says, whisper-quiet like a confession. “Gave me all sorts of ideas.”

“Care to share any of them with me?” Noah keeps his voice low to match Dan’s, watches Dan’s fingers then up to Dan’s face. His eyes are so dark, the intent in them clear.

“Finish that and then I can show you.”

The initial kneading doesn’t take long, and Noah sets the dough up in its oiled bowl to proof. He puts 90 minutes on his kitchen timer and then crowds back into Dan’s space, pressing him against the cabinets. “Show me.”

Dan smirks against Noah’s mouth, grabbing Noah’s hands and placing them on Dan’s hips. He bounces up onto his tiptoes a couple of times, until Noah gets the picture and hoists him up onto the counter. Before he’s even fully settled he’s nodding down into a kiss, hands cupped around Noah’s ears. “Yep,” he says, “Just as hot as I imagined.”

Their kisses range from slow and deep to messy and desperate, and Noah alternates between grinding up against Dan to holding his hips back and away to cool himself down. Eventually Dan gets uncomfortable, shifting restlessly on the edge of the counter. Noah pulls back and glances over at the timer; they still have an hour, and Noah wants to get Dan horizontal and naked, not necessarily in that order.

“Want to move this to the bedroom?” Noah asks, smoothing his palm up from Dan’s knee to the firm breadth of his thigh, and higher. If he splays his hand he can just brush his thumb over the ridge of Dan’s cock, trapped under snug, light wash denim.

“Yes, absolutely,” Dan says, and hops down.

They get their shirts off en route, leaving them in heaps in the hallway. Noah’s glad his hope had him make the bed that morning, because after Dan lets Noah divest him of jeans, underwear, and socks, he looks incredible sprawled naked across Noah’s navy duvet.

Noah wants to devour him. He gets himself out of the rest of his clothes first and then crawls up over Dan’s body, waiting until Dan reaches up for him to lower himself fully. Every point where their bare skin touches lights up with sparks, and Noah gasps into a kiss.

“You feel so good,” he says, licking across Dan’s stubble to the spot under his ear that Noah had discovered earlier in the kitchen. Just like then, sucking lightly on it makes Dan moan. This time he also bucks up his hips, cock riding the groove of Noah’s groin. “Can I suck you off?”

“Seriously?” Dan asks, voice strangled. When Noah lifts his head he sees Dan has thrown his arm over his eyes. Dan gives a broken laugh, his other hand fluttering over Noah’s back. “God. Yes, of course.”

Noah nudges Dan’s wrist with his nose until Dan peeks out from under it. He still has his glasses on, smudged now from his arm. Noah pinches the bridge of them with his thumb and forefinger and gently draws them away from Dan’s face, reaching over to set them on the bedside table. Dan’s eyes are wide, lashes dark and thick. “Is that okay?” Dan blinks, and then nods. Noah pecks him quickly on the lips, and then drags his mouth down his chin, his neck, through the pelt of hair that covers his chest, lower. Dan sucks in a breath that makes his stomach contract away from Noah’s lips, but he presses them down, opens them up over the delicate skin under Dan’s navel, sucks a kiss there.

Then he moves even lower, settling his shoulders between Dan’s trembling thighs, and licks a wide stripe up the underside of Dan’s cock.

The noise Dan makes is like the ones he makes when he tastes something particularly good under the tent, but even hotter. Combined with the smell of him, and the taste that explodes over Noah’s tongue, it has Noah on edge already. He wastes no time taking Dan in deep, working his tongue as he slides his mouth up and down, pulling in air through his nose so he doesn’t have to let up at all. Dan touches the top of Noah’s head, the hollow of his cheeks, the curve of his shoulder, before settling his warm, damp palm around the back of Noah’s neck. His thumb presses at the hinge of Noah’s jaw, and Noah opens up wider, takes Dan into the back of his throat.

“God,” Dan says, almost whispers, reverently, one foot skimming the curve of Noah’s ass. “That’s so good.”

The praise makes Noah flush hotter, makes him work a little harder, upping the pace until Dan is panting. He strokes up the inside of Dan’s thigh and in, one finger nudging up behind Dan’s balls, and Dan cries out. He squeezes the back of Noah’s neck, and Noah takes Dan in as deep as he can, swallowing around the head of his dick as Dan pulses in his mouth.

“Fuck, Noah,” Dan says, trying to drag Noah off of him. Noah draws up slowly, keeping his lips tight around Dan, feeling him shudder with oversensitivity. “Off, off, up here.”

Noah finally obeys, with one last lick to the tip of Dan’s softening cock, letting Dan pull him up for a messy, uncoordinated kiss.

“Noah,” Dan mumbles against Noah’s mouth, fingers clumsy on Noah’s jaw. “That was so good.”

“I’m glad,” Noah says, tilting into another kiss. 

“Give me a minute, and then I’ll happily reciprocate.” Dan’s eyelids flutter before he gets them all the way open, and Noah’s achingly hard and very much into the idea of getting Dan’s mouth on him, but he’s also filled with an unbearable tenderness. Before he can say anything too soppy, the timer dings faintly from the kitchen.

“You have five whole minutes,” Noah says, and pecks Dan on the cheek. “I have to go punch down the dough.”

“Ugh,” Dan says, arm coming back up over his eyes. “Stop being so hot.”

Noah laughs as he rolls off Dan, swinging his legs off the bed. He feels a little silly padding through the house bare naked with his erection bobbing in front of him, but he needs to get the dough punched down so it can proof again.

He’s just turning it out onto the counter to knead it back into a ball when Dan comes into the kitchen. He’s still naked too, and he sidles right up behind Noah and gets his arms around Noah’s waist. “This is just unfair,” he says into the side of Noah’s neck, one hand skimming down Noah’s belly to circle around Noah’s cock.

“Fuck,” Noah says, and doesn’t notice his own hands have stalled in their work until Dan’s hand stops moving.

“Don’t stop,” Dan says. “I’m led to understand that this is a very important step in the process, and I’m expecting excellent focaccia.”

“Fuck,” Noah says again, but goes back to kneading. Dan matches his rhythm with his own hand, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. Noah’s knees give an alarming shake, and he deems the dough ready for proofing, shaping it into a ball and dumping it back into the bowl. “Just, I need to,” he stammers, closing his eyes as Dan rubs his fingertips over the head of Noah’s cock, gathering precome to slick the slide of his hand. “I need to set the timer.”

“No one’s stopping you,” Dan says, smirk evident in his voice. Noah manages to get the timer set and then braces himself on the counter, dropping his head down between his shoulders. He watches Dan stroke him, and gasps for air. 

“I’m so,” Noah starts, then has to pause to groan as Dan does something with his thumb that makes the edges of Noah’s vision blur, “close already.”

“It’s probably unsanitary to have you come all over the counter where you have to knead bread, hm?”

A breathy chuckle shudders out of Noah’s mouth. “Probably.”

“Here, turn around.” Dan releases Noah and pushes at his hips, gets him to turn and lean back, and then goes to his knees.

“Oh god,” Noah says, and watches Dan swallow him down. He drives his hand into the front of Dan’s hair, where his waves are damp with sweat and starting to curl, and holds on for dear life as Dan brings him right to the edge and then over. He keeps his hands tight around the backs of Noah’s thighs, like he knows he’s helping to keep Noah upright, until Noah tugs on his hair. Then he stands, wrapping his arms around Noah’s back and pressing right in for a kiss.

Noah sighs into Dan’s mouth, feeling sated and sleepy and so fucking content. He has bread proofing on the counter, and Dan warm and sweaty in his arms, and they still have dinner ahead of them.

“I can’t believe we couldn’t even wait until the bread was done,” Dan says, smile curving his mouth. It’s one that Noah hasn’t seen before, not the sly tilting one, or the quirked one he uses for the cameras. It’s wide and open, showing all his teeth. It hits Noah square in the chest, and he tightens his arms around Dan’s waist.

“I am not at all surprised, personally,” Noah says. Then when Dan tips his head in question, Noah adds, “I’m not a very patient person.”

“Odd quality in a baker, impatience.”

“Oh, I can be patient with baking. But not with other things I want.”

Dan doesn’t respond to that, just ducks his head, still smiling.

“Come on, let’s get dressed and open a bottle of wine. We still have time until I have to get the bread in the oven.”

They do just that, slouching into Noah’s couch and talking. It’s easier to talk to Dan than Noah would have ever expected, to tell him about his music and his theater work, to get Dan to open up about his writing. Dan follows Noah into the kitchen to watch him press the dough out onto the baking sheet. He lets Noah dimple it and drizzle it with oil without interruption, but as soon as it’s set aside for its last rise he leans in for a wine-flavored kiss.

“We should probably have more to eat for dinner than just bread,” Noah says, pulling back reluctantly. Dan wrinkles his nose like he’s not sure that’s necessary, but Noah has a fridge full of meat and cheese for a proper charcuterie board, and he offers to let Dan direct him in assembling it. That does the trick, and Dan helps Noah lay out an Instagram-worthy spread.

The focaccia turns out perfect, better than anything Noah had been able to bake all weekend in the tent, and Dan makes that smoldering hot noise in the back of his throat as soon as he puts the first still-warm bite in his mouth. He even closes his eyes like the darkness will help him savour it more. Noah is lit up with pride, chewing his own bite and watching Dan’s throat work as he swallows.

“That’s amazing,” Dan says, immediately reaching for more.

Before Noah knows it, the board is clean except for a few nuts and a smear of goat’s cheese, and Dan is pushing his empty wine glass away. It’s not terribly late, and Noah entertains the notion of getting up and straddling Dan’s lap, asking him to stay. But Dan’s clearly working himself up to leaving, and Noah feels suddenly unsure.

“This was great,” Dan starts. He smooths his hands over his thighs, mouth tucked back into its coy curve.

“Yeah,” Noah says. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Me too.” The overhead light reflects off of Dan’s glasses, making it hard for Noah to see his eyes, to read his face. Then Dan stands. “I should probably go.”

Noah wants to say, “No.” To say, “You could stay.” He wants to get Dan back into bed, wants to see what he looks like under the duvet, wants to see what his hair looks like in the morning. But instead he just says, “Yeah.” Because he’s afraid that he’ll ask Dan to stay and Dan will say no.

They kiss at the door, just a brief chaste press of lips, and then Dan’s gone, angling into his car and driving away. Noah closes the door and goes to clean up the kitchen. He should start prep for the week, because the next weekend is pastry and he’s not ready for pastry at all, but instead he goes to bed. He lays in his dark room, the smell of Dan still lingering in the air and on his pillows, and opens up a text message. He stares at the blinking cursor for a full minute before locking the screen and shoving his phone onto the bedside table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Signature: [cheddar, beer and mustard pull-apart bread](https://smittenkitchen.com/2012/02/cheddar-beer-and-mustard-pull-apart-bread/)  
> Technical: [brioche a tete](https://www.finecooking.com/recipe/brioche-a-tete)  
> Showstopper: grissini


	5. Pastry Week

By the time Noah parks at the Film Centre, he’s worked himself up so much that he feels nauseous. It’s part nerves about pastry—not once has he managed a perfect test run of any of the recipes for this week’s challenges—and part nerves about seeing Dan. Noah had finally gathered enough courage to text on Wednesday, after two full days of trying to talk himself into it only to talk himself right back out of it, and the few messages they’ve exchanged have been bland and basic and have shed no light on where they stand. Noah couldn’t bring himself to push the issue over text; he’s hoping he can get Dan alone after the day’s filming to talk about things. Maybe ask him out again.

Grabbing his bag, he forces himself out of the car and into the weak morning sunlight that filters through the low hanging clouds in the sky.

“Looks like rain,” Annie says, as she emerges from her own car a few spots down. Noah nods, falling into step with her as they make their way to check-in. “You okay?”

“Just nervous,” Noah says. “I’m not great at pastry.”

“You’ll be great, I’m sure.” She makes the face that normally precedes her teasing him mercilessly about Dan, but thankfully she’s precluded by a producer calling them to take their places so they can walk to the tent.

There’s no one else around as they cross the grass and climb the steps, and the tent is empty except for crew members. Which means the first time Noah sees Dan since kissing him goodbye at the front door will be with cameras rolling. He hopes he can keep his face under control.

It doesn’t help that Dan is wearing a very snug pair of white pants, showing off every shift of muscle as he takes his place next to Julia. Noah has to struggle to keep his eyes up, the way they’ve all been coached by the crew, and he has to train them on Julia so he can block everything else out. Their first challenge is a slab pie, a ridiculous concept that Noah had never even heard of until this show. It’s been nothing but trouble for him all week in his own kitchen, and he can’t afford the distraction of Dan’s white pants and his beautiful curving thigh muscles, especially since Noah now knows all the details of those thighs that are normally covered up. How firm they are, how they tremble when they’re kissed, the fine sprinkle of dark hair that covers them until giving way to smooth delicate skin—

“Bake!” Dan and Julia call in unison, and Noah has to scramble to get started.

The rush of adrenaline and a quick glance down at his recipe gets his head back in the game. His crust needs to be done first so he can blind bake it, and it needs to be cooled properly before he can fill it to go back in the oven. It’s tricky timing, and knowing he’ll be interrupted several times for show content means he really needs to make sure he’s on top of it.

Julia does the first round of visits with the judges, and their conversation is quick and forgettable. They’re glad Noah is blind baking his crust, but how anyone could think a pie made in a sheet pan will work without blind baking is beyond him. Seems like common sense, frankly. Either way he’s glad he read so many baking blog posts about slab pies, because the research is definitely paying off.

The second visit is just Philippe and his camera, and he gets the _Tiny Dancer_ homage immediately. Noah hasn’t finished cutting out the stage curtains or the small ballerina from his scrap dough, but he sketches out the outlines with his hands to give both Philippe and the eventual viewers an idea of what they’ll look like. He offers Philippe a taste of the raspberry peach filling, and is gratified by the wide eyed response.

“It’s great,” Philippe says. “But despite the job I’m definitely not an expert.”

Noah laughs, taking the spoon back. It’s not the same as the flirty exchanges with Dan, couching innuendo in baking talk, but it’s nice to have someone else try what Noah is working on and approve. It makes him feel slightly more confident as he fills the mostly-cooled crust and tops it with his dough-stage and dough-dancer, sliding the whole heavy pan back into the oven.

Unfortunately even paying close attention to his pastry and blind baking don’t save him from a soggy bottom. “The filling just produced too much juice,” Rochelle says, as Bruno pokes at the drooping crust with the tines of his fork. Noah’s shirt is stuck to his back with sweat and he can practically feel all the eyes of the tent on him. Including Dan’s, which Noah has to force himself not to glance over to try to meet. He nods, reining in as much of his disappointment as he can, and only lets himself drop his chin to his chest after the judges—and the cameras—have moved on.

When he looks up, Miles is smiling sympathetically, and across the aisle Annie is giving him a bracing thumbs up. He shrugs a shoulder, and tries to mentally prepare himself for the interview he’s sure they’re going to ask for.

Only they don’t. Producer Jenna grabs Miles instead, whose blueberry thyme pie was apparently amazing. She shoots Noah a grin as she does; she’s sparing him today. He knew he liked her best.

The technical is not an improvement over the signature at all. Noah’s hands are not dainty enough for pastry in general, but especially not for whatever the hell a palmiere is. He cracks a joke about his thick fingers to Philippe, who snorts behind the camera. Out of the corner of his eye Noah can see Dan, leaning against Miles’ bench, lift his head.

Noah keeps his eyes on his pastry so he can’t see the face Dan is making. He barely lifts them when Dan turns to stand across Noah’s counter. Dan reaches out to poke the roll of pastry that Noah is cutting. “Have you ever had a palmiere before?” His voice is even, no hint of teasing.

“I have not,” Noah says, matching Dan’s tone. He glances up quickly, just enough to not look like he’s avoiding it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one either.”

Dan finishes their chat with no banter, no laughter, no hint of what he’s feeling, and then moves on. Noah keeps methodically slicing dough, blanking out everything except getting through this challenge.

He doesn’t win—by a long shot—but thankfully he doesn’t come in last either. Which means he is once again saved from doing an interview, and he can pack up and watch for Dan to come through for leftovers, and try to talk to him.

Only Dan never comes in. Noah loiters until he’s the last baker in the tent, and he’s in the way of the cleaning crew. His pie sits soggily on the counter, only two pieces cut out of it. He leaves it behind and goes home.

𝆩

Listening to the judges explain the showstopper the next morning, Noah’s eyelids get heavier and heavier. He’d slept like crap the night before, and his stomach was still a mess of nerves, and he has to make three different kinds of dough today. Not an ideal situation.

The judges are accompanied by Dan when they come up to Noah’s bench, and a little flare of defiance sparks through Noah. He watches Dan closely as he describes the breakfast pastries he has planned for his basket, all of which he knows Dan is going to love. Dan’s impassive mask slips just a bit as Noah details his almond croissants and cardamom sweet buns.

“Are you putting raisins in your sweet buns?” Rochelle asks, looking around at the ingredients Noah has laid out on the countertop.

“Nope,” Noah says, extra confident in his choice because of the pleased curve of Dan’s mouth. It’s the first real hint of the Dan he’s gotten to know over the last few weeks, and it solidifies something in Noah. They’re going to talk today, Noah is not going home without knowing where they stand.

That confidence carries him through his bake. His danishes come out flaky and golden brown, his sweet buns rise perfectly in the proofing drawer. Dan stops by to taste test and takes down an entire almond croissant in one bite. He’s playing it up for the camera, but he shoots Noah a quick look like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Noah hides his smirk in his shoulder as he wipes a drop of sweat off his face with his t-shirt.

In the end, his showstopper surely saves him from elimination. It doesn’t elevate him anywhere near Star Baker status, of course, that honor goes to Rizwan. But when Dan opens his mouth to announce who is going home, Noah’s stomach swoops with nerves, and the relief when Dan says Punam’s name is so severe it almost knocks him off his stool.

Someone must catch it, because they pull him outside for a post-episode interview. He should have known he wouldn’t make it through the weekend without doing one. They’re in front of the filming team’s favorite bush, and just over the camera Noah can see inside the clear sides of the tent to his own workbench. As he wraps up his rambling, messy answer to whether or not he was relieved not to be sent home, he spies Dan approaching the counter and lingering, looking around like he was expecting to see Noah.

“Happy to still be here for next week,” Noah finishes. “Is that all?” He starts walking away before Jenna is completely done dismissing him, and makes it into the tent just as Dan is finishing scooping all of Noah’s leftover pastries into a bag.

Dan turns and startles. “Oh. I thought you were gone.”

“Just doing my interview.” Noah wants to close the distance between them, his fingertips itching to touch the dark stubble on Dan’s jaw. But there are too many people still in the tent, and Noah has no idea if the touch would be welcome or not. “Can we talk?”

“Outside,” Dan says quietly, ducking his head and walking past Noah. Noah throws things into his backpack, not sure if he’s even packed everything he needs to take home, and then follows.

It can’t be a coincidence that Dan chose the spot where they had their first kiss. Hope bubbles up in Noah’s stomach, but as he gets closer he sees the resolute set of Dan’s jaw and the hope fizzles out.

“Hey,” Noah says, but Dan cuts him off with a raised hand. He grinds his teeth once, and then takes a deep breath. Noah braces himself.

“I’m sorry. I feel like it’s my fault you struggled this week,” Dan says. It’s not at all what Noah was expecting him to say, and while it might be slightly true Noah still wants to vehemently disagree with him. Dan doesn’t give him the chance. “I shouldn’t have let things go so far. I shouldn’t have let them start at all. It was extremely unprofessional and it’s not fair to you when your only focus should be baking right now.”

Noah gapes, brain scrambling for something to say. 

“I’m sorry,” Dan says again. “I won’t let it happen again. We’ll keep it professional, and you can focus on your baking. You’re good enough that you could win, Noah.”

“I’m—thanks?” Noah says, accepting the compliment on autopilot while he tries to think of ways to fix what is happening. But it’s too late. Dan nods, once like that finalizes things, and walks away.

How is Noah supposed to focus on baking when he feels like his heart has been pulverized?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Showstopper: [coffee cardamom morning buns](https://www.blossomtostem.net/coffee-cardamom-morning-buns/)


	6. Chocolate Week

If Dan thought that he was helping Noah with his declaration, he could not have been more wrong. Noah’s head is all over the place all week, and he struggles with chocolate enough on good days. There’s so much tempering that has to be done, which Noah just gives up on practicing after his fourth failed attempt. And even thinking about his plans for the showstopper derails him for hours, because he’d planned the whole thing with the sole purpose of impressing Dan.

Which is futile, now.

Annie and Miles can both tell something is wrong with Noah as soon as he arrives at check-in, and try to cheer him up in their own ways. For Annie that’s extra teasing and a little bit of violence, for Miles it’s a pep talk and a solid hug. Each one helps slightly, so that Noah isn’t fully dreading entering the tent. He’s only slightly dreading it.

Of course the weekend they’re working with chocolate it’s about 37 degrees in the shade and so humid that the walk across the lawn feels like a swim. They’re all dripping sweat and have to be powdered down before they can take their places, ready for filming to begin.

For the signature challenge, Noah plans on making a variation of the cookies he’d used for his sin bin in week 2, replacing the dulce de leche with a brown butter buttercream filling, and attempting to temper the chocolate coating. 

He explains this to the judges when they stop by, and they seem unimpressed with his choice to reuse a recipe even with the variations. Dan also seems disappointed; Noah remembers how much he’d enjoyed the dulce de leche in the first round of cookies, but Noah knows that his brown butter buttercream is delicious and resolves to make the best damn batch of it that he’s ever made in his life. 

Not that it matters. His buttercream could be the best buttercream anyone has ever made ever, but he’s not being judged on buttercream this week. He’s being judged on chocolate, which he cannot get to smoothly cover a cookie and set with a glossy finish to save his life. It’s either too hot or too cold, and the first few cookies look like a child coated them. He’s able to get one good batch of chocolate and finish up, but the plate he presents to the judges only has four truly passable cookies on it.

Which is the first thing Bruno comments on, naturally. “The chocolate is a little inconsistent,” he says, nudging one of the most globby cookies with a fingertip.

“I had some trouble with my first batch,” Noah admits. For some reason the judging rubs him wrong today. Normally he can take criticism, even harsh criticism when he knows it’s warranted, and looking down at his cookies he knows it’s warranted right now. But he’s feeling raw, disappointed in himself, and Dan’s presence isn’t helping.

“These four look good, nice and glossy,” Rochelle says, playing good cop for this challenge. Noah nods his thanks, and plants his hands on his hips to practice some deep breathing as they move on to the next baker.

Somehow everything goes even more severely downhill from there.

“This week your technical challenge is truffles,” Julia says, and Dan makes an oohing noise that immediately rankles Noah. “These indulgent treats are bite-sized balls of chocolate ganache dipped in perfectly tempered chocolate.”

“The judges would like you to make two dozen perfectly shaped and dipped chocolate truffles,” Dan says. Noah hears someone across the aisle groan quietly, and feels that groan deep in his soul. He’s fucked. “You have two hours and 45 minutes on the clock.”

As soon as Dan and Julia say, “Bake!,” everyone flips the cloths off of their ingredients and reads over their recipes. It’s laughably short and vague, and Noah has to read it twice because his eyes don’t want to focus on the words. He can feel defeat like lead in his veins, slowing him down as he spreads out everything he needs to get the ganache started.

He tries to stay positive, give upbeat answers to Julia’s chirpy questions, smile for Philippe’s camera, but it’s even harder work than the baking.

The ganache isn’t difficult, and he’s able to get it chilled and rolled and ready with time to spare. Then he has to temper more chocolate, and as the chunks start to melt and simmer, his blood pressure starts to rise until he’s boiling.

A tangle of frustration and sadness and disappointment knots his stomach, pulling tighter and tighter. It’s a spiral of emotion that he’s not used to, but that he’s experienced before, and he knows there’s no pulling out of it now. It’s like over-whipping cream; once it starts to break apart, there’s no putting it back together. You just have to toss it and start over. 

Only there’s no time to start over, either with his chocolate or his feelings. He just has to hold on through judging, not blow his lid until he’s out of range of the cameras. Then he can go for a walk, which is the only thing he can think of to really reset his brain.

At the call of time, he swipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his wrist and sighs down at his tray. In an act of desperation he’d rolled half of his truffles in cocoa powder, and the other half look truly pathetic. He sighs as he carries the tray up to the gingham altar and puts it behind his photo. Miles glances over and double-takes, and then slings his arm around Noah’s shoulder as they walk back to their benches. There are spare balls of ganache sitting on a baking sheet, and Miles takes one to pop into his mouth.

“They taste delicious,” he says, clearly trying to cheer Noah up. Noah shoves a ball of ganache in his own mouth and has to agree. They do taste good. But they don’t come close to meeting the brief, and both he and Miles know it.

It’s no surprise when Noah comes in last. After the comments the judges made when they got to his tray—Rochelle’s “oh dear” is still ringing in Noah’s head—it was clear pretty much everyone else expected it. Annie leans on her stool to bump her shoulder into Noah’s, and as he swings his head around to give her a grateful grimace his eyes catch on Dan’s face.

Which is clearly crestfallen. He’s staring right at Noah, the corners of his mouth turned down, his eyebrows pulled so low they disappear behind the frames of his glasses. It’s the last straw, and Noah hops off his stool and strides out of the tent.

The clouds still hang low overhead, a thick steely layer of gray that seems appropriate for the day. It’s still swampy hot, and so still, the calm before a storm rolls in. Noah feels like he is that storm as he stomps down the steps and around the corner of the tent onto the path that veers off into a copse of trees. The air is slightly cooler but no less damp in the extreme shade between the pines and maples, and the smell of moist dirt and leaves takes some of the edge off of Noah’s anger and frustration.

He knew this was going to be a bad week, because chocolate is definitely his weakest point of all the themes and challenges, but he wasn’t prepared for the extra layer of hurt. He’s barely spent a handful of hours with Dan, most of it on-camera banter, but he misses him. He misses the easy back-and-forth of their conversations, the sparkle in Dan’s eyes and the specific tilt of his mouth that showed how much he enjoyed it, too. Feeling all of that on top of doing so poorly in the challenges is just, it’s too much.

But the walk helps. A walk always helps. He follows the path through a clearing and then back out onto the lawn, circling back around towards the tent.

Where Jenna is waving at him frantically. “Hey,” she calls as he picks up the pace and draws closer. “We have to do an interview.”

“Fuck,” he can’t help saying out loud, and she wrinkles her nose. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I hate making people do this, but.”

“I know.” Noah follows her to the bush and takes his place, reining himself in enough to give a coherent but frank interview. Philippe lowers his camera after, holding it awkwardly in one hand and clapping the other on Noah’s shoulder.

“I had a truffle, man. They tasted great.”

“Thanks,” Noah says, and means it. If only that was the sole metric of the challenge.

When he goes back in to pack up he sees that all of his truffles are gone. He doesn’t know if thinking of Dan taking them makes him feel better or worse.

𝆩

Sunday dawns brighter and less humid than the day before, and Noah pulls his shirt from the day before out of the dryer and pulls it on, wrinkles and all. He feels slightly better, even though he’s pretty sure he’s going to be eliminated from the show today.

The thing is, he never thought he was going to win. He didn’t sign up for that at all. The thought of winning doesn’t motivate him. He just doesn’t want to fail. Yesterday had felt like a failure.

Today won’t. Even if he’s eliminated. Because he’ll have done the best he can.

He marches into the tent with his head held high, Annie and Miles on either side of him, and firmly pulls his apron down over his chest. The showstopper is a 3D chocolate sculpture, and Noah’s plan is elaborate and probably impossible, and he’s going to try his hardest to pull it off.

The judges and hosts come into the tent, and Noah looks straight at Dan, who is looking straight back at him. Noah smiles, a tight-lipped smile that isn’t close to the flirty smirks they used to exchange, but Noah figures it’s better than nothing. Dan gives him a hesitant smile in return, and then they’re in their places and the cameras roll.

Their 3D chocolate sculptures have to include at least three chocolates, one of which must be white. Noah’s choice of structure is whimsical and meaningless to him, but he chose it for Dan. It will also prove to be an interesting challenge, which will be really impressive if Noah can pull it off. It involves four types of chocolate, several colors of food paint, and so many molds that the stack almost topples when Noah bumps them with his elbow reaching for a pan.

A rough sketch of his sculpture lays on the surface of the workbench, and it’s the first thing the judges look at when they approach. Dan is with them, and even looking at the drawing upside down he immediately clocks what it is.

“Is that the,” he tilts his head, a smile spreading over his face. “The necklace from _Pretty Woman_?”

“It is,” Noah says, and Dan lets out a delighted laugh while Bruno and Rochelle study Noah’s notes.

“Four types of chocolate,” Bruno says, skepticism clear in his voice. “You’ve not had the best time with chocolate so far, this is ambitious.”

“I know. But I feel good today, I think I got it.”

“You’re using ruby chocolate?” Rochelle asks, and Noah nods. “Clever.”

“Thanks.”

“And what are these?” Bruno indicates two vee shapes where the lid meets the bottom of the box.

“Hinges. That I’m hoping will actually be functional.”

That part of the plan is the first to get scrapped as time races on and he hurries to get his sculpture completed. Pouring ruby chocolate into each small gem mold takes forever, and then he has to pop each one out and paint it. The gold and diamond part of the necklace is a custom mold he’d made ahead of time, and it’s solid milk chocolate so thankfully that goes a bit quicker.

They’re close to time when Noah reaches for his bowl of white chocolate chunks, ready to melt them down. He glances up at Miles, who is shaving his white chocolate into curls, and has a flash of deja vu.

Of Miles shaving curls of white chocolate. Offering them to Dan. Dan turning them down.

Because Dan doesn’t like white chocolate.

Noah slowly puts the bowl back down, surveying his work. Without the hinges it’s just going to be a flat box with a necklace in it. And sure, the rubies look impressive and his necklace mold came out awesome, but a flat box is not going to save him from elimination. Not when Rizwan is doing something that’s almost as tall as he is, and Karen has a beautifully glossy sphere of chocolate constructed, and Miles has basically recreated the Milky Way in mobile form, and Annie’s got a tower of chocolate on her counter. It’s just not going to cut it.

Glancing around quickly to see if any cameras are pointed at him, Noah dumps his white chocolate back into the bag and stuffs the bag in his drawer. Then he loads up the spray gun with white paint and sprays the bed of the jewelry box.

Philippe comes over while Noah is painting, and Noah glances over to see his one visible eyebrow raised. “No white chocolate?”

“I burned my white chocolate,” Noah says, making it as convincing as possible. He knows the message will be relayed to the judges so they can ask him about it when he presents. He’ll have to be this convincing then, too. “And there’s just no time to try to redo it. And my hinges totally failed.” He gives the camera his best self-effacing shrug. “It is what it is.”

He tells the judges the same thing. They’re very disappointed, even as they compliment the concept and the necklace itself, that the box isn’t more 3D. And obviously, not using white chocolate when it was specified in the brief is a big deal. Noah nods in understanding. It’s amazing how much different he feels today, in the same spot, taking criticism from the same judges. He knows he didn’t do enough to win the challenge, or stay on the show, but he still created something beautiful that tastes great. Something that he knows Dan will enjoy.

Since it’s probably the last thing Noah will ever make for Dan, knowing that Dan will like it is important to him.

Jenna takes pity on him and doesn’t pull him for a pre-announcement interview. Which means he can hang out with Annie while the hosts and the judges deliberate in their separate tent. Annie cracks a chunk off of the lid of the box, which they’d left behind, and then breaks it in half to share with him. 

“I’m going to be eliminated,” he says, just to hear it out loud. To get used to the idea before they come in and make the announcement. “Fuck, who’s announcing this week?”

“Julia,” Annie says, reaching out to curl her fingers in Noah’s t-shirt collar.

“Good.”

“What happened there?” Annie asks, and Noah shakes his head.

“I don’t want to get into it yet, if that’s okay?”

Annie’s become a really great friend, despite her violent tendencies and ruthless ribbing. She just nods and pulls him in for a hug.

The producers sit Noah between Annie and Miles for the announcements, which Noah is grateful for. Annie holds his hand, and Miles keeps his arm pressed solidly against Noah’s. Karen wins Star Baker, and the joy of that buoys Noah as Julia starts the elimination announcement.

“I have the very difficult task this week of sending home a baker that has brought so much warmth to this tent.” In the brief pause her eyes land on Noah, and he registers the genuine sadness there just as she says his name.

There are groans all around. Noah hears Karen say, “Oh no!” Annie’s got a death grip on his fingers, so he has to drag her along when he goes straight for Karen.

“Congratulations,” he says, squeezing her tightly with his free arm.

“I’m sorry,” she says back, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t be. It was my time. Enjoy this, you deserve it.” 

“I hate this,” Annie says, yanking him in for a hug. There’s a waver in her voice that makes a lump form in Noah’s throat. He doesn’t want to cry, even though he’s sure to get emotional in his exit interview. But fuck, he hates this too. Even knowing it was coming, he still isn’t ready to actually go. He hugs Miles next, and then Rizwan. Noah is thrilled for them all to make it into the semifinals, and he wants to make sure they know it. Then Julia throws her arms around his neck, a show of emotion that surprises him a little. They’d gotten along great, of course, and he’ll miss her as much as he’ll miss the bakers. Maybe more so; it’s likely he’ll hang out with at least Annie and Miles after filming, but he has no idea if he’ll ever see Julia again.

Or Dan. Dan who always hugs the person who wins and the person who is eliminated. Who is standing just behind Julia with an inscrutable expression on his face. He comes in for a hug as soon as Julia releases Noah, and Noah holds him a fraction longer than he maybe should. He breathes in the sweat-sharpness of Dan’s neck, the smoky spiciness of his hair, and spreads his palms flat on Dan’s back.

Then Jenna is tapping Noah on his shoulder, saying he has to do his exit interview, and he numbly follows her outside.

“Sorry, man,” Philippe says, before shouldering his camera. Noah presses his lips together and breathes deeply through his nose, trying to keep tears at bay. There’s so much he’s going to miss about filming this show, the tent and even the bush he has to stand in front of to talk about how sad he is. Jenna doesn’t ask a question, she just gestures at him to start talking, so he does.

“I’m really bummed to leave,” Noah says, the easiest and most obvious part of what he wants to say. “This has been an incredible experience. Meeting all of these people—” The lump in his throat is so big it’s hard to talk around. He can see everyone in the tent packing up. Annie is leaning against Noah’s workbench. It’s the last time he’ll bake at that counter. “Yeah,” he chokes out, not sure how to finish. Or if he can.

“What happened with your showstopper?” Jenna asks. Noah pinches the bridge of his nose, catching tears at the corners of his eyes before they can actually fall.

“The white chocolate, I—” He knows what he has to say. He burned it, didn’t have time to fix the mistake. But out of the corner of his eye he spots Dan, who stops short on his way down the steps, looking over at Noah. Dan lifts a hand in a weak wave and then continues on, down to the path that leads to the lawn, which leads to the parking lot. “You know what,” Noah says, swiveling back and looking straight at Jenna. “I didn’t use the white chocolate. I put it back in the bag and stuffed the bag in my drawer. It’s probably still there.” Her eyes go wide and Noah laughs, a short, mirthless sound. “Dan doesn’t like white chocolate, and I wanted the last thing I made him to be something he’d actually enjoy.”

The camera lens slowly lowers, and Philippe’s eyes are just as wide as Jenna’s. “Damn,” he says, and Noah laughs again, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry,” Noah says, voice shaking.

“You know what? I think we’re good.” Jenna darts forward to give Noah a quick, hard hug. “Thanks Noah, you’ve been great.”

Philippe squeezes Noah’s shoulders with one arm, and then they go back to the production tent, heads bent close together.

Annie and Miles are still inside the tent, piling Noah’s dishes on the end of his counter, their stations already packed up. “Hey,” Annie says when Noah comes in. He sniffles in response, and she reaches out to pull him under her arm. “Want to go out for a drink?”

“You guys have to prep for the semifinals.”

“We have all week for that,” Miles says. “Let us buy you a beer.”

Noah looks around the tent for the last time, taking in the cluttered, messy workbenches, the line of refrigerators, the empty leftovers table in the back. He wants to ask if Dan took the necklace, but he doesn’t. 

“A beer sounds good.”


	7. French Patisserie Week

It’s fitting that Noah wakes up with a hangover on the first morning he is officially no longer a contestant on the _Great Canadian Baking Show_. He can’t even blame Annie and Miles, because they’d only had one drink together before both of them begged off to go home and start patisserie prep. No, he has no one to blame but himself.

And Dan Levy. Noah blames Dan a little, too.

There’s evidence of Noah’s sad Sunday night all over his house. The almost empty bottle of whisky left out on the coffee table, his notes for what would have been his next challenges strewn all over the kitchen. The garbage can is full of ingredients for the tiramisu crepe cake he’d been planning on testing today. He can’t salvage the whipping cream but the condensed milk is unopened and his container of cocoa powder is almost full, so he retrieves those and wipes them down before putting them away.

Then he decides to make himself crepes for breakfast—or more appropriately, brunch—based on the glaring red numbers of his oven clock. He gulps down coffee and shovels crepes into his mouth and pokes through his phone to make sure he didn’t embarrass himself digitally in any way. He didn’t send any text messages or make any outgoing phone calls, thank god. 

At least he kept his drunken wallowing to himself.

It’s weird how quickly the crunch of challenge prep became normal, but now that Noah doesn’t have to do it he feels at odds. He should do something productive like look for theatre auditions or figure out what he’s doing with his life next, but instead he puts on a record, keeping the volume low, and calls his mom.

The bakers all have to keep their participation in the show as much of a secret as they can, and they especially can’t let it get around how far they’ve made it. But Noah’s family all knows, and have been bugging him every week for details that he doesn’t always feel comfortable giving. He told them about his Star Baker win, of course, and gave them a vague idea of how he’s done in other weeks, but he’s never told them about an elimination.

“Hi Mom,” Noah says when she answers. “I got eliminated.”

Her patented mom mix of gentle sympathy and stern encouragement does wonders for both his headache and his heartache. Then she passes the phone to Noah’s dad, who asks if he’s okay, and then invites him over for dinner.

“Let us make stuff for you,” he says. “And don’t even think about bringing dessert!”

Noah laughs wetly, sniffling and blinking away unshed tears. “Are you sure? I have so much baking stuff here right now.”

“Seriously, Noah. You can bake for us next week, or whenever you think you’re ready. But take a break, eh?”

That might be the hardest adjustment, Noah thinks as he gives his love to his parents and hangs up the phone. Baking has always been one of the things that Noah does to relieve stress, to bolster his spirits. He’s sure it’ll feel that way again, but right now it doesn’t at all.

Noah thumbs at his message app and looks at the most recent conversations. He should text his sister for sure, but then she’ll want to call and he doesn’t know if he can handle that when he’s still tender from talking to their parents. He shoots off a quick text to Annie and then Miles, thanking them each for taking him out for consolation drinks, and wishing them luck for the week. He taps on his last message to Dan, opening their thread, and reads back to the beginning. There are only a dozen messages, and Noah can’t bring himself to add one. He can’t bring himself to delete the thread either.

Wallowing might end up being a full 24 hour situation.

The week drags without the rush of test baking. Noah’s sister ends up calling without prompting, meaning his parents told her what happened. Annie texts a few times, including a hilariously staged photo that makes it look like her kitchen has had a crepe avalanche. Noah’s other friends ask him to dinner one night and he goes, but he’s not great company and he doesn’t know how to explain his funk. Thankfully they’re used to his occasional moodiness and don’t make too many comments about it.

On Friday night Noah goes out for a sixer and takes it down into his music room, and he spends the night drinking and writing a melodramatic song about a baking show. It’s terrible, it will never see the light of day, but it helps him process some feelings. The beer helps him fall asleep, something he’s had trouble doing on Friday nights for the past month. He doesn’t set an alarm, meaning he can sleep in on a Saturday for the first time in weeks as well.

A text message from Annie awaits him when he wakes up late in the morning. _Tent doesn’t feel the same without you_ , it says, and it makes his eyes sting, his throat feel tight. 

He shoots back, _At least I won’t get punched today._ Then he sends her yet another “good luck” message, and flops back on the mattress.

He thinks he might, maybe, actually want to bake something. It’s a good feeling, and it eases the ache in his throat, the heat behind his eyes. He smiles up at his ceiling and then rolls out of bed.

Bread is what he feels like baking, a nice crusty loaf of it. Going through the whole process will take up a good portion of the day and he’ll get to do some meditative kneading. He starts his yeast and warm water going, and then lays out the rest of his ingredients on his counter. His kitchen isn’t set up as strategically, or expansively, as the GCBS tent, but it’s much more comforting. Especially without the looming specter of the countdown.

As soon as his dough is rolled up and secure in its oiled bowl, he washes his hands and wipes down the counter, and reaches for his phone. He knows he won’t have heard from Annie and Miles yet, they’ll still be elbows-deep in crepes at this point in the day. But he might call his sister, or see what his buddies are up to, or—

He has three unread texts from Dan.

_I just saw a cut clip from your exit interview. I don’t know what to say._  
_That’s not true, I do. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dismissed you the way that I did. It was unfair._  
_I wish you were baking here today._

As Noah reads the messages, and then rereads them a few times in an attempt to fully absorb them, he backs up until he can drop into one of his dining chairs.

It must have been Jenna who showed Dan the clip. Or maybe Philippe, if he could access the edited footage. A mild flush of embarrassment crawls up his neck, thinking about Dan seeing it, seeing how raw and vulnerable Noah was in that moment. But more than embarrassment he feels relief, that it’s out there. That Dan knows.

_I’m baking bread today. In my own kitchen. For myself._  
_It feels good, but I do miss the tent._

Noah chews his lip, rubs his thumb on the edge of his phone case, thinks about locking the screen and leaving it there.

_I miss you, too._

After that message he does lock the screen, and puts his phone face down on the table for good measure. Dan’s busy, he doesn’t need Noah bombarding his phone with messages.  
Noah manages to leave his phone alone until the timer goes off to check his bread dough, and then he’s busy punching it down and kneading it again, getting it ready for its second, longer proof. It feels good to work the dough, stretching it with his knuckles and letting his mind drift. He zones out slightly, the motion of his hands and arms automatic, his mind emptying out. This is what he loves about baking, the soothing consistency of it, the preciseness of the science that is also somehow like art. It feels good, really good, to be back in that headspace instead of the sweaty tension of the tent.

Even if he does wish Dan was there to ogle his forearms.

When the dough is ready to rise again, Noah cleans up and then goes for his phone.

_I miss you, too._

Noah has no idea what to say after that, and he’s saved from trying to come up with something by his phone ringing. It’s Annie, which is concerning since she has never once actually called him, and Noah answers with a cautious, concerned, “Hello?”

“This day fucking sucks,” she hisses quietly down the line, drawing out the last word to be at least three syllables. “I hate patisserie.” Her pronunciation is pointedly terrible, and Noah swallows a chuckle.

“Oh no,” he says, and pictures her hiding somewhere in the woods, on a walk like the one he’d taken the week before, hunkered down with her phone pressed to her ear. “Are you done? What’s going on?”

“No, we’re about to start the technical. Which I already hate.”

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“It’s a technical bake. I hate it.” Noah lets himself laugh then, and Annie makes a noise like she’s trying not to laugh herself. “Why did we do this to ourselves?”

“I mean, I auditioned for the show because I wanted to hook up with Dan Levy. I don’t know what your reasons were.”

“Noah!” Annie exclaims, and then hushes herself again. “Did you actually hook up with him?”

“Don’t you have to get back to the tent?”

“Do you want me to ask him, instead?”

“Sweet jesus, no.” Noah actually puts his hand to his forehead in terror, because he knows Annie would. The troll. “Okay, go in there, fucking nail this technical bake, and then call me after.”

“Ugh. Fine. Thanks,” she mutters, and Noah rolls his eyes as she hangs up on him.

His bread is in the oven when his phone rings again, and Noah settles onto his couch with Annie griping in his ear. She did not fucking nail the technical bake, and she’s convinced she’s getting eliminated the next day. Noah tries to reassure her, but it doesn’t really work. She clearly feels the same way about patisserie that Noah feels about tempering chocolate, and honestly out of the four people in the semifinal Annie is the weakest baker. 

“Look at it this way,” he says, after she’s wound herself down and gone quiet. “If you get eliminated tomorrow we can go to the finale party together and just hang out in the sunshine and not have to be stressed out about baking.”

“How comforting,” she says, tone dry as a bone. He laughs. “I’ll be attending the finale party with my husband, but I guess you can tag along. Since your date will be busy filming and all that.”

“Shut it,” is his lazy retort. He hesitates, and can practically hear the expectancy in Annie’s silence. “Alright, I’ll tell you what happened.”

“In graphic detail, please, it’ll cheer me up.”

Despite her request, Noah keeps his recap PG, and by the end of it he feels just as confused and hopeful and terrified as he had reading Dan’s text messages earlier. He has no idea where they go from here.

“Well,” Annie says, actually serious and thoughtful now. “You’ll see him next weekend. Maybe see how it goes and ask him out again? The show will be over so there’s no weird contract stuff to even start to worry about. And you’ll both presumably have more free time.”

It’s a good plan, which Noah grudgingly admits to Annie. She laughs, and Noah feels a phantom punch to his biceps. “Thanks,” he says, rubbing his arm. “I hope I helped you as much as you helped me.”

“Nah, but that’s okay. I’m going to have a cocktail and practice my showstopper, and then we’ll just see how tomorrow goes.”

“Let me know?” He requests, and she agrees, and then hangs up on him again. Annie is clearly not a fan of goodbyes.

Noah’s bread is perfectly crusty, chewy in the middle, and he eats a whole slice while it’s still warm from the oven. Happiness swells behind his ribs, and he cuts another slice.

𝆩

Being able to sleep in on the weekends is great. Being able to get Sunday brunch with friends again is also great. Noah orders a Caesar and sips it, letting the chatter around the table wash over him. He doesn’t think about the tent, or Annie and her patisserie, or Dan, the whole time.

For the most part.

One of his buddies is going on an audition that week, a play at a larger theatre in Toronto that sounds interesting, and Noah takes down the information. It’s a good lead, and a good way to continue getting the normalcy of his life back. Adrian wants to record some music and needs a pianist, so that’ll help too. There’s a gig coming up that they all want to see, and that’ll help even more.

They linger at the table, only getting up when they notice a crowd forming at the host stand, and then they hang out on the sidewalk for longer, wrapping up conversations and enjoying the warm breeze.

Noah turns down a ride home, choosing to walk instead, because he feels good and wants to stretch his legs. He has his earbuds in his pocket, and he turns up _Rain Dogs_ on his phone and sets off down the street. It’s a long walk, taking him all the way from “Singapore” to “Blind Love,” and he’s pleasantly sweaty and tired when he gets home. If he rinses off super fast in the shower he can take a nap and still wake up with enough time to whip up a dessert for family dinner that night.

When he wakes up from his nap, sun slanting through the blinds at just the right angle to pierce directly through his eyelids, he reaches for his phone to check the time and sees he has a missed call from Annie.

“Fuck,” he says, clearing sleep-roughness from his voice and sitting up, tapping her name to call her back.

She’s sniffly when she answers, and Noah’s heart sinks. “I’m done,” she says, and Noah sighs heavily.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Some of us are going out to grab a drink, which seems like a new tradition. Want to come?”

Dessert is immediately scratched, and he can cancel on his parents if he has to. “Of course. Where am I meeting you?”

All the remaining bakers are there when Noah arrives, clustered around a high-top table with their shoulders pressed together, drinks in hand. They’re all thrilled to see Noah, Rizwan so much so that he almost spills his wine when he throws his arms around Noah’s shoulders. Karen slides him a beer, poured from the pitcher at her elbow, and he takes it in one hand while he slides the other around Annie’s waist.

“Welcome to the club, kid,” he says, and she snorts.

“We’re the same age. And your club sucks.”

Noah laughs, and clinks his glass against hers.

They stay out long enough that Noah does cancel on his parents. Karen ducks out early, because she wants to get a good night’s sleep. Rizwan goes next, hugging everyone so enthusiastically they’re all rubbing their ribs as he walks away. Then Miles is the only finalist left, and he vows to stick it out while Annie gets very, very drunk.

“Dan was very forlorn this weekend,” Annie says, or slurs really, digging her knuckles into Noah’s arm. Noah cuts his eyes at Miles, who rolls his own.

“Neither of you is subtle,” Miles says.

“Oh god.”

“Seriously, worst kept secret in the tent.”

Noah puts a hand over his eyes, and Annie laughs at him.

“Guess we really will get to go to the finale party together,” Noah says, and grabs for her as she sways away from the table. “We should maybe get you home.”

Annie’s husband comes to pick her up, and then Miles and Noah split an Uber home. As soon as Noah is in the door he palms his phone out of his pocket and goes straight to his text thread with Dan.

_Just poured Annie into a ride home. Sucks that she got_  
_eliminated, but at least I have someone to hang out with_  
_at the party next week._

_I’m looking forward to seeing you._

He leaves it there, and thankfully doesn’t have to wait long for a response.

_I hated having to eliminate her. Although I’m glad_  
_I won’t have any bruises for a while._

_I’m looking forward to seeing you too._

_Maybe we can find time to talk?_

Noah sends the message before he can talk himself out of it, and then locks his screen so he doesn’t watch for the dots that indicate Dan is typing. Again the response comes fast enough that Noah can’t second guess his words.

_I’d like that._

That’s enough.


	8. Finale

Now that the seal has been metaphorically broken, Noah and Dan text constantly. Well, not constantly, because Dan is apparently slammed with work for his other shows, and Noah has an audition to prepare for, and music to write and learn, and shows to see with his friends. And a makeup dinner with his parents, which Noah makes a beautiful tiramisu mille crepe cake for. 

In between all of those plans, though. They text constantly. It starts with Dan sending a _Good morning._ text on the Monday after Annie is eliminated, and then a photo of the patisserie leftovers he must have snagged to have for breakfast. Noah retaliates later that evening with a photo of his cake, and Dan sends back a drooling emoji that makes Noah laugh even as a flash of heat sparks through his belly.

Noah bakes more bread that week, kneading while he practices his monologue for his audition, and attempts to capture his own flexed forearm with his phone held up near his face. It’s awkward, and he almost drops it into the flour, but he manages it. It’s poorly framed, but the veins are standing out in his wrist, and he sends it anyway.

It gets another drooling emoji, and this time heat doesn’t just flash through Noah’s belly, it simmers there while Noah finishes up his dough.

His audition goes great, and recording with Adrian does too. It feels good to flex more of his creative muscles, feels like everything is almost back on track. It helps to have his increasingly more flirty text thread with Dan to go back to in between, too.

“Who are you texting that is making you grin like that?” Adrian asks, and Noah shakes his head but can’t quite dislodge his smile.

“Just a friend.”

It’s not the whole truth, because it’s pretty clear from the tone of their conversation that Dan wants to be more than friends just as badly as Noah does. But they haven’t explicitly discussed their intentions, and even with the promise of trying to talk over the weekend, Noah is starting to get antsy.

Annie texts on Saturday to finalize their plans for the next day, and offers to swing by and pick Noah up. She teases him about choosing an outfit, since they’re supposed to dress up, which Noah brushes off at first but then starts to legit worry about. It’s ridiculous, because Dan was clearly attracted to Noah even at his sweatiest, covered in a bland apron and a layer of flour, and Noah never thought about his wardrobe for filming at all. This feels more important somehow, so Noah casts his most critical eye over his closet on Saturday night and then lays out an outfit he hopes will impress Dan but won’t make Noah melt in the sun.

𝆩

It’s weird to pull into the Film Centre lot without a backpack, without a pile of ingredients and a printed out recipe. The nerves are definitely similar, making Noah’s heart race and his palms feel clammy.

“This is bizarre,” Annie says, turning around in her seat to look at Noah. “You look like you’re going to hurl.”

“Terrific.”

“But your hair looks good.”

Annie’s husband laughs, and they all get out of the car.

There’s a check-in, but no cameras to film their walk. The cameras will come later, Noah knows, to catch the whole party in full swing. There are bounce houses and picnic tables with festive umbrellas over them, and a food tent. Annie beelines for the food tent, but they’re waylaid by numerous former competitors en route. Almost everyone has family along, and they all exchange handshakes and hellos. It’s nice to have people to commiserate with, to share the disappointment and relief with. Because as much as Noah wishes he could still be baking in the tent, he’s definitely relieved to be just a regular baker again. Much less pressure.

They finally make it to the food table and load up on lunch, finding a table to settle at with Punam and her girlfriend, chatting about life after elimination. Punam has already been offered a cookbook deal, something Noah never even considered before.

“Hasn’t anyone reached out to you to sponsor stuff?” She asks. Noah shrugs.

“How would they find me?”

“Instagram!”

“I don’t even remember my password for Instagram,” he says, and Punam almost puts her face right down into her pasta salad.

It’s weird to think of making money off his appearance on the show, especially since no one has seen any of the episodes yet. Punam seems confident that not even elimination will be a deterrent, because she follows so many people from old seasons who have parlayed their brief moments of fame into more success. 

“I’m good,” Noah says eventually. And he is. If there’s one thing that baking in the tent taught him, it’s that he prefers it as a hobby. As an escape. It’s not something he wants to make a career out of.

Annie nudges Noah’s shoulder with her own, and they exchange a smile.

They have to do interviews, of course, because what would a day at the _Great Canadian Baking Show_ be without interviews. Jenna and Philippe approach Noah, and Noah is so thrilled to see them that he grabs them each in a hug. Jenna looks a little shifty, and Noah gives her an extra squeeze.

“It was you?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” she says. Philippe laughs behind the camera. 

“If she hadn’t, I would have.”

Noah is suffused with warmth, the camaraderie of the party and the odd bond he feels with this motley crew of people. Jenna starts off by asking him how it feels to be back.

“It’s great. It makes you remember how important, how life-changing this experience was, and still is. And will continue to be. Going through this competition, it teaches you a lot about yourself, and the circumstances create a really unique bond with everyone you’re going through it with. The relationships that I’ve formed on this show,” he pauses, and looks over Jenna’s shoulder at the tent in the distance, where he knows Dan will be hamming it up for the camera as the time ticks down on the last challenge of the season. “They’re really important to me, and I hope they continue on for a long time.”

There’s a beat of silence after Noah stops speaking, and then Jenna blows out a breath.

“Okay,” she says, and then, “now tell us who you think is going to win.”

“I’m betting on Karen. She’s got strong competition in Miles and Rizwan, but she’s so cool and calm, I think she’s going to take it.”

“Great. That’s it.” She tucks her pen into the top of her clipboard, and Philippe lowers his camera. “Thank you, Noah, really. You’ve been great to work with.”

He can’t help it, he has to hug them both again, and then they separate, laughing, Jenna and Philippe heading off to do more interviews. Noah goes back to his table and lets Annie punch him in the biceps for being a softie. He rubs the spot, a smile spreading wide across his face.

The finalists come out of the tent first, carrying the top tiers of their finale cakes. They greet their families first, and then the cameras want to catch a baker reunion, so they all crowd together in front of the tables. Noah goes for Miles before anyone else, and even though his cake looks amazing Miles is bummed it didn’t impress the judges the way he hoped it would. Rizwan is beaming, and Karen tells Noah that she’s pretty sure Riz is going to win. Apparently they’d been neck-in-neck before the showstopper but Riz pulled off some of his patented baking magic and beat them out.

“Guess we’ll find out soon,” Noah says, as a murmur goes through the crowd. Everyone’s heads turn to the tent, to the small gathering of very well-dressed people getting ready to make their filmed walk across the lawn. Noah squeezes Karen’s arm and then backs away.

It’s the first glimpse he gets of Dan, as the hosts and judges line up with their bouquets and the winner’s cake plate. Even from this far away Noah can tell how impeccably cut Dan’s sand-colored suit is, hugging every line and curve of Dan’s body. His hair is a glossy swirl, and his mouth is tucked into his cheek in a pleased smirk.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth,” Annie mutters behind Noah’s shoulder, but Noah ignores her. As the line draws closer to the crowd, Noah can see Dan’s eyes skipping from table to table until they land on Noah. The twitch of his mouth makes Noah grin, just the slight deepening of his dimple enough to make sweat bead along Noah’s hairline.

He can’t help it, he spends the entirety of the announcement drinking Dan in, and almost misses the winner’s name. He blinks himself out of his reverie just in time to hear Julia say, “The winner of the _Great Canadian Baking Show_ is … Rizwan!”

The crowd erupts with noise and motion, everyone trying to get to Rizwan for a congratulatory hug. Karen and Miles get him first, of course, and then the judges and hosts. Annie and Noah cluster up with the other contestants, waiting their turns. When Rizwan turns toward his family, crystal cake plate clutched in his hands and tears streaming down his face, the other finalists are pulled into the circle of their fellow non-winners.

Noah has his arms around Karen, congratulating her effusively on getting this far, when he catches Dan’s eye again. Dan isn’t hugging anyone at the moment, hands hanging loose at his sides. Up close the suit is even better, pants rolled neatly at the ankles, jacket buttoned over a crisp white shirt. He’s so gorgeous that Noah feels breathless for a moment. There’s a tentative smile curving his mouth, and it’s so far removed from the cocky smirk of before that it ignites something urgent in Noah.

“Go get him,” Karen says, shoving Noah away.

That sounds like an excellent idea. And sure, there’s a giant crowd of people and a crew of cameras, and they haven’t really had a conversation about their relationship or where it will stand once filming is officially over. But Noah doesn’t care. He marches right up into Dan’s space, gets two handfuls of his sand-colored lapels, and pulls him into a kiss.

Someone nearby makes a noise of delighted surprise, but it’s soon drowned out by the sound of Noah’s blood rushing in his ears. He can’t hear anything but his own pulse, the whole world narrowed down to Dan’s mouth, no longer tentative but confident as it moves against Noah’s own, Dan’s hands gripping Noah’s shoulders, Dan sucking in a ragged breath through his nose. It takes a moment, even as they break apart, for Noah to remember where they are. He still has Dan’s suit clutched in his fists, and he watches Dan’s mouth split in a genuine, giant smile.

A wolf whistle pierces their bubble, and Noah unclenches his fingers. “Oh god,” he said, face flaming with a sudden burst of embarrassment. Dan’s lapels are crumpled, and Noah tries to smooth them to no avail. Dan reaches up and takes Noah’s hands, holding them tight and shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I just kissed you in front of everyone, in front of the cameras!”

“Noah, don’t worry about it.”

“Your suit—”

“Will be fine. Noah.” Dan squeezes Noah’s fingers. “It’s fine.”

Noah takes a deep breath, blows it out through his mouth. “Just fine?” He asks, teasing.

“Better than,” Dan says, and then lets go of his hands. “Come on, I want to talk to Annie.”

From there they make the rounds together, making sure to hug everyone and Rizwan twice. Annie punches each of them on the arm, but then she hugs Dan and whispers something in his ear that makes the back of his neck go spectacularly pink. She flutters her eyelids in a truly terrible wink, and then grabs her husband to drag him over to another table.

The sun is still high in the sky when the party starts winding down. The crew goes first, coiling their camera cables and heading off towards their tent. Julia presses a kiss to Dan’s cheek and then Noah’s, surprising him, before leaving herself. Dan leaves Noah alone to go off and confer with Bruno and Rochelle and Jenna, and while he’s gone Annie comes back with her husband.

“We’re going to get going,” she says, and Noah pushes up from the bench of the table. “No, no. Not you.”

“Did you forget we came together?”

“Nope,” she says, and tucks her hand into her husband’s elbow. “Dan’s going to take you home. And then you two can—”

Her husband pulls her away before she can finish her horrible innuendo, and her cackling laugh floats back over her shoulder. “Text me!” she yells before they’re out of earshot, and Noah is still shaking his head when Dan comes back. 

“Did you just get ditched?”

“Apparently I have an alternate ride home?”

“Ah.” Dan looks uncharacteristically unsure, and Noah reaches out to touch the wrinkles in his lapels. “Is that okay?”

“Let me go say goodbye to everyone,” Noah says, and waits for Dan’s smirk to appear before he goes.

𝆩

The ride back to Noah’s place is quiet, the tension ramping up until Noah feels like the air between them is crackling with it. They should be talking but Noah has no idea where to start, and Dan doesn’t seem inclined to get the conversation going either.

Dan seems to remember how to get to Noah’s, even though he only drove there once, so Noah doesn’t even have to open his mouth to give directions. It makes Noah feel extra fond, and as Dan navigates the final turn towards Noah’s house Noah reaches out and puts his hand on Dan’s leg. Dan jumps, and then laughs, and all the tension bleeds right out of the car. Dan pulls into Noah’s driveway, puts the car in park and turns it off, and then slots his fingers between Noah’s, squeezing.

“Come on,” Noah says, and they let go so they can get out of the car.

“So,” Noah says, as soon as they’re inside with the door closed behind them, and then he flashes back to the first time they’d been in this situation. The anticipation is just as heady now as it was then, and even though Noah knows that they should talk first, when Dan comes at him this time he opens right up to him again.

Dan’s mouth is hot, and hungry, his hands already under the hem of the short-sleeve button-down that Noah had carefully selected for this day. Noah gets his hands into Dan’s hair, tugging it out of its painstakingly styled tousle and messing it up for real, using his grip to get Dan’s head angled just right so Noah can nip at his bottom lip.

“I know,” Dan says, and then stops to lick into Noah’s mouth. “We only,” he continues, and then gasps when Noah slides his mouth over to the spot under Dan’s ear. “Did this once,” he goes on, blunt nails scraping along Noah’s spine. “But I missed it.”

Noah groans against the side of Dan’s neck, eyes closed against a flood of emotion. He presses his hands to Dan’s back, spreading his fingers as wide as they’ll go, holding Dan tight. “Me too,” he says, and then punctuates his statement with another sucking kiss under Dan’s ear.

They stumble their way to Noah’s bedroom in fits and starts, pausing to push each other up against the hallway wall for more steady, deep kisses. Noah realizes he’s shirtless when they cross the threshold to his room, and Dan’s jacket is gone, and Noah has no idea how that happened. They manage to get the rest of their clothes off before they tip onto the bed, and then Noah gets himself flat out on his back so Dan can crawl up over him.

“I really want to fuck you,” Dan says, and Noah has to blink a few times and try to remember how breathing works.

“That’s, yes,” he says, and Dan smirks down at him, then presses that smirk to Noah’s cheek, to the underside of his jaw, to the hollow of his throat. Noah stretches his arms over his head, shifting under Dan’s mouth as it skims over to one of Noah’s nipples, where he delivers a bite so vicious Noah has to grab the headboard tight to help him ride out the shockwave of pain and pleasure. 

“Do you have lube?” Dan asks, before biting Noah’s other nipple. Noah pants through it this time, and flops one arm out to the side, hopefully indicating to Dan that everything is in the bedside table drawer. “Condoms?”

“There, too,” Noah says, and Dan rifles for a moment and then drops the bottle and a foil packet next to Noah’s hip. “Come here,” Noah requests, trying to use his shaking hands to drag Dan up for a kiss. It’s a request he makes frequently as Dan works Noah over with his mouth, kissing what feels like every square inch of Noah as he opens Noah up with his fingers. He’s not gentle about it, but firm and insistent. Almost greedy. Like he loves the process of it but also wants it to be over with as soon as possible.

Noah is on board with that. He feels just as greedy, heels kicking at the back of Dan’s thighs and fingers scrabbling over Dan’s shoulders, across the back of his neck, up into his hair. He pulls Dan up for a kiss then lets him go, pulls him back and lets him go again. Finally Dan sits back and rolls the condom on, then lines himself up and pushes in.

It’s a slow, long thrust that brings his hips flush with Noah’s body. Noah watches Dan’s lashes sweep down as he closes his eyes, then opens them up just as slowly. His pupils are huge and dark, reflecting the sun filtering in through the blinds. He runs his tongue along his lower lip, then pulls it in to bite it as he draws back and then thrusts back in.

The drag and slide of it is so good Noah is already gasping for air, close to the edge. He reaches up for Dan and Dan obliges, lowering himself for a kiss. It changes the angle just enough for the urgency to ebb a little, and Noah can focus on the kiss, on the way Dan’s chest hair brushes against Noah’s nipples, on Dan’s hand gently cupping Noah’s jaw.

The pace slows, and the atmosphere changes. Dan’s hips move in a smooth arc, and his lips slide against Noah’s in the same rhythm. Noah hooks his ankles together, squeezing Dan’s waist with his thighs, loving the friction of their damp skin rubbing together. He curls his arms around Dan’s shoulders, fingers bumping the knob of Dan’s spine at the nape of his neck, and lets himself be thoroughly kissed, thoroughly fucked. Every single part of his body thrums with pleasure.

“Noah,” Dan says, when he drags his mouth away to lick the bristles on Noah’s jaw.

“Dan,” Noah says back, and tilts his head back for more.

Dan shifts, getting his knees under him, and changes the angle again. And just like that Noah is right back on the edge. “Let me,” Dan says, and wraps one hand of long fingers around Noah’s cock. And that’s all it takes. Noah’s body seizes as his orgasm slams through him, makes his elbows and knees lock up as his cock pulses in Dan’s fist. Dan licks his lips as he watches Noah come, and then he presses his palms to the insides of Noah’s thighs and starts rocking his hips in earnest.

“Come on, come on,” Noah chants, sliding a hand down Dan’s arm, then down farther to feel where Dan is moving inside of him. Dan’s belly shudders against the back of Noah’s hand, and then he presses in as far as he can go, trapping Noah’s fingers there while he shakes through his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” he says sharply, hips jerking, and then he collapses forward into a kiss. Noah kisses him back best he can, trembling as another shock jolts through him, and pets Dan’s sweaty shoulders with his clumsy hands.

They take a moment to calm down, settle, get their breathing under control, before Dan pulls out and discards the condom. Noah’s stomach is sticky, and his skin prickles as his sweat cools, and they’re supposed to talk. Instead he says, “Shower?” And Dan nods, scraping his hand through his hair. 

Sharing Noah’s small shower stall feels more intimate than anything else they’ve done, so it feels like a good place to make a confession.

“I want to date you,” Noah says, with Dan’s soapy hands on his ass.

Dan’s hair is flattened to his head under the spray, and when he laughs he sprays Noah with the shower water running down his face.

“Is that funny?” Noah asks. He would be affronted if Dan wasn’t still lathering up his butt and smiling that rare, wide-open smile.

“In this situation?” Dan asks, and gives Noah’s ass cheek a light smack. “Kind of. But yeah. I think we can make that work.”

Noah slips a hand around Dan’s waist to pull him in for a warm, wet kiss.

𝆩𝆩

The premiere episode airs in the fall, and Noah watches it with his family. They know about Dan already, have even met him, which means Noah has to endure an unfortunate amount of teasing about how smitten he looks throughout the entire hour.

Subsequent episodes are watched either with his family or with Dan, and sometimes with Annie and her husband too. It’s interesting to see how the episodes are edited, what got cut or what got chosen for the final product. Noah doesn’t love watching himself on TV, but he gets used to it, and the memories of filming are so good that they make up for any mild discomfort in watching the show.

They watch Noah’s Star Baker week at his parents’ house, and Noah can tell that Dan is remembering their first kiss by the way his eyes glaze over as the doughnut judging plays out on screen. Noah slides his hand across the couch cushion until he can grasp Dan’s fingers and squeeze.

Bread week is just for them, and they watch it at Dan’s, spread out on his couch with his dog at their feet. Dan is spooned up behind Noah, and Noah can feel him getting hard as the Noah on TV kneads his bread dough. Noah laughs, and at the next commercial break he turns himself in Dan’s arms, kissing him all through the rest of the episode.

There’s a party for the airing of the finale, and Dan and Noah go together. Annie coos at them until Miles saves them, coming to their aid with drinks, dragging them away to the food table. Their relationship has been kept pretty quiet, and the show did its best not to play anything up. Their loud faces and flirting couldn’t be edited around, but at least nothing was being exaggerated as a storyline. Noah’s exit interview had been artfully cut so his white chocolate outburst was left to the cutting room floor. And to Dan’s cell, because Noah knows he saved a copy of the video Jenna sent him.

A cheer goes through the room when the winner announcement is made, and Rizwan gets a fresh round of hugs. The episode wraps up with short interviews of each finalist, Rizwan’s happy weeping the last shot before the credits roll. Noah blows out a relieved breath and catches Dan’s eye. They’d been pretty sure their kiss wouldn’t make it on camera, but it’s nice to know for sure.

Noah’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, expecting a bunch of messages about the show now that his family and friends know how it ends. But the first notification is from a number he doesn’t recognize, and it’s a video.

The thumbnail shows the finale party. Noah’s thumb hovers over the play button, but then he locks the screen and goes to grab Dan.

“What’s up?” Dan asks, after Noah has dragged him into the bathroom and made sure the door is locked behind them. Noah unlocks his phone and shows Dan the screen. Dan’s eyes go wide behind the lenses of his glasses, and he pulls Noah against his side. “Play it.”

It starts out a wide shot of the party, clearly after the announcement. Noah’s heart thuds in his chest as the camera zooms in on him, hugging Karen but clearly watching Dan. The look on his own face makes his breath catch in his throat. Dan squeezes Noah tighter to him, and they watch as the Noah in the video lets go of Karen and marches straight for Dan.

Real life Dan makes a small noise in the back of his throat as video Noah grabs video Dan’s lapels, and Noah is right back in that moment. In the rush of a kiss that is way too hot for a public place. It’s Karen who whistles at them, and Noah watches as their video selves sheepishly break apart.

“Wow,” Dan says. Noah can’t help but agree.

“I still feel bad about your suit,” Noah says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He knows what he wants to say, but they’re not quite there yet. Soon.

“I told you already, the wrinkles steamed out.”

Noah grins, and Dan leans in for a kiss that rivals the one they just watched. Noah needs to thank the sender, presumably Jenna, and then save that video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments and messages along the way. I wish I could bake each of you a cake.


End file.
